


What Lies Underneath

by destinae



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Anxiety, Drug Use, Emetophobia, Gore, M/M, Violence, Withdrawal, also some trigger warnings:, other general dragon age stuff?? im sorry im not good at this
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-22
Updated: 2016-07-22
Packaged: 2018-07-26 03:23:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 21
Words: 36,225
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7558267
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/destinae/pseuds/destinae
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Cullen Rutherford starts a new semester at the illustrious and mysterious Skyhold University, he ends up getting more than he bargained for when he and his roommate, the Tevinter mage Dorian Pauvus, stumble upon some arcane forces beyond their understanding.</p><p>In which I steal plot elements from Inquisiton, but don't really use them in the same way. Enjoy.</p><p>No smut. So, uh. Don't worry about that. Tons of awkward flirting and kissing, though.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Skyhold wasn’t as much a University as it was a castle.

   

Well, technically, it was both.

 

Built from the remains of an old castle in what had once been the backwaters of rural Thedas, Skyhold was an elite and mysterious establishment. The only thing harder than getting in, was figuring out how to actually apply. It had an astonishingly low enrollment, and an impeccable rate of retention and graduation.  

The kicker? Attendance didn’t cost a cent. Once one was accepted to Skyhold, they were welcome to attend for free, until they completed their master's degree. It was a great deal, and very many of Thedas’s elite were known to have attended the University. This large field of alumni also served as Skyhold’s primary source of funding. What alumni didn’t pay during their attendance, they often paid after their graduation in the form of grants, scholarships, and donations.

Despite its elusive nature, Skyhold was, by all means, an average college. The main building-- the actual castle structure-- was home to a library, some meeting rooms, and a dining hall. What had once been a pub still served this function on its first floor, but the other two served as dorms for the students, all of which lived on campus. An old barn and stables still served such functions, holding an impressive repertoire of mounts. Since the mountains it sat on had no space for parked cars, a long area of flattened land at the far end of the bridge, functioned to facilitate parked cars and bikes and whatever transportation students, faculty, and guests used to brave the unforgiving trek up the surrounding mountains.

 

Skyhold’s executive faculty was as elusive as the school itself. The President and Vice President of Skyhold were known only to appear for school assemblies and occasional public addresses. They were elves-- both very regal and very professional. The President was a woman with, rumored to have been Dalish before founding the university with the Vice President, another elf, who even less was known about. Some students said they were in love, others that they hated one another. These rumors, however, were never answered, and thus mystery continued to surround them.

The only true scandal of the President and Vice President was to do with them being mages. While blood magic was scarce in Ferelden, the outburst of Circle magi in the previous years had led to a rebirth of fear of magic and magical people. Especially elves. While the President and Vice President did remain silent on the matters, students noted that they no longer carried their staves with them when they were seen in public. Not when whispers among only the sleaziest tabloids hinted that the uni’s executive staff used blood magic to further its students’ success. Skyhold was, and always would be, a place of true learning.

 

As the spring semester arrived and Skyhold once again opened its doors to its few new students, the sun broke through the usual overcast and washed the grounds of the university in a warm, kind glow. This, with the arrival of the new students, breathed a  not entirely unfamiliar life into the grounds of the school. Students and families streamed into the grounds one by one, dragging their luggage into their appointed living spaces and collapsing once they did, exhausted by the trek across the bridge and onto the grounds. All races and backgrounds were present: Dalish shared bathrooms with Qunari. Tevinter transfers were bunkmates with the children of Orlesian nobles, and in this melting pot of cultures and races, any ignorance was quickly washed away. There was no room for hatred of differences among the student body when they all shared such a great interest: education.

As Skyhold had upped its acceptance by a couple dozen students, they had ended up having to convert ramparts and towers-- which had previously been completely inaccessible-- into new dorms. Into one such dorm which overlooked the bridge and mountains it crossed moved a handsome-looking boy. Or man, more appropriately. Whatever one wished to call him, he was certainly too young to be carrying all his luggage by himself. Yet he did, trailing a trunk behind him, several bags on his back as he hobbled into the dorm. He collapsed on one of the unmade beds in the space, face-first, breathing deeply and shrugging off the bags with a gesture that could only be described as full-bodied relief.

 

Cullen Rutherford, the tag on his trunk read. Freshman.

 

The boy-- er, man-- was, by all means, a little old to be a Freshman. In his gap year, he’d been enlisted into Templar service. A year turned into three, and before he knew it, he was twenty-one and leaving his Templar post to finally pursue the education he had so callously neglected. He wasn’t concerned, though. Not when he had bigger battles to fight (figuratively, of course), such as the fact that he hadn’t exchanged a word with his roommate since their assignment. As soon as Cullen knew his rooming, he’d also been assigned a roommate. Or at least, he should have been. Since he was one of the Freshman who was admitted over the acceptance limit, there were some special procedures, such as having no goddamn clue who his roommate would be. Cullen sighed. It couldn’t be that bad. Maybe he’d be so busy with classes and campus activities he’d never have to deal with this elusive roommate.

Or, maybe, that roommate would come in as soon as Cullen had sit up, bringing with him a draft of cool mountain air. Cullen’s mind short-circuited as soon as he saw the roommate in question-- he was certainly something. That was for sure. The roommate in question brought this indescribable energy into the small room. He was tall, but not quite as tall as Cullen himself. He was olive-skinned. Cullen could tell this, of course, because of exactly how much skin he was showing. Under an unzipped hoodie, the man wore a crop-top with faded text that had undoubtedly meant something at some point in time. How could he not be cold? Granted, the fall wasn’t quite as much freezing as it was frigid, but he had to be feeling that breeze--- he was talking.

“Hello?” He repeated, looking at Cullen somewhat impatiently.

 _Your mustache is tacky_. It was the first, terrible thought in Cullen’s head. “Hey.”

“Dorian Pavus.” The man introduced himself, approaching Cullen-- who, mind you, was still reclining on his bed-- and holding out his hand. Cullen just stared. “You’re supposed to shake it. Come on, I won’t bite.”

Right. Cullen reached out and shook Dorian’s hand. “Cullen Rutherford.”

“Well, that wasn’t too hard, was it?” Dorian asked. With a flourish, he turned around and picked up his bags, putting them beside the other bed in the room with little trouble. He must have been pretty fit to not struggle under the weight of two trunks and two over-stuffed duffels.

“Do you need help?” Cullen asked.

“You’re too kind, but I can quite take care of myself.” Dorian said with a dazzling smile.

Right. Cullen rose to his feet, shrugging off his fur-lined jacket and closing the door, which had been persisting in bringing in an unwelcome draft since Dorian had entered. Turning to face his new roommate, Cullen made the executive decision to suffer through small talk for fear of looking unwelcoming.

“Where are you from-- ah, Dorian?” Cullen asked, setting down his trunk and popping it open. Sheets were on top, folded carefully. As he made his bed, he listened to Dorian’s answer.

“Tevinter.” Dorian had alighted on his unmade bed, opening up a duffel and shifting through the contents. “I’ve heard great things of Skyhold-- that is, what little I **_have_ ** heard of this place. So I decided to spend some time here. Shame I’ll have to pay for it.”

“But Skyhold doesn’t charge you attendance--”

“Until you finish your master’s, I know. And I have. There is a brain in this lovely head of hair, Cullen.” Dorian replied, a hint of annoyance in his town. “What, thought I got into this institution by my looks alone?”

“N-no.” Cullen stammered as he accidentally caused his fitted sheet to slip off the mattress. “You’re just so young-looking. I assumed--”

“Tsk tsk, Cullen.” Dorian chided, pulling a comb from the duffel and styling his hair. “I am young. A bit of a prodigy, actually. Finished my master’s in three and a half years. Don’t bother with the praise, I’ve heard it all before.” A pause, he set down his comb. “Come to think of it, it wouldn’t hurt to hear that praise again.”

“Right.” Cullen replied, mentally doing some math. They were the same age. Had Skyhold arranged this, or was it just fortune? “It is fairly impressive, Dorian. What are you pursuing here?”

“Magical studies.” Dorian replied, taking his own fitted sheet out of his trunk and putting it onto the mattress on his side of the room with no trouble.

Hearing it, Cullen couldn’t help but wince a bit to himself. Being a Templar meant many things. One of these things, of course, was acquiring a knee-jerk reaction to magic. Cullen thought he was fortunate that he was facing away from Dorian, but what the Tevinter man said next told Cullen that he hadn’t been as subtle as he thought.

“Is there a problem, Cullen?” Dorian asked. “Because that would be terribly inconvenient for you.” He paused half a beat. “See, there’s nothing I can do about being a magical person. You, however, can choose whether or not to be a bigoted arse about it. So.” Dorian said with a shrug, putting on the rest of his sheets in the time it took Cullen just to wrestle his fitted sheet into place.

“There isn’t a problem.” Cullen said, finally standing up straight. He realized how sore his back was. “It’s just that-- well, I was a Templar.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “And- and I don’t have a problem with mages individually. You know, I don’t hate you at all. Or your magic. I just--” His nerves got the better of him as his composure slipped. “I, uh- I saw some things. You know, with magic. I’m more afraid of the magic than the people who have it. If that makes sense.”

Dorian looked at cullen for a moment, silently. He knelt down, pulling out a small stack of books and setting them on a low table beside his bed. “Well, I guess there’s nothing you can do about that, is there?” He asked.

“No.” Cullen said, biting back an apology. He didn’t have to apologize for the effects battle had on him.

“You know this campus is open carry, right?” Dorian asked, giving Cullen a pointed look before pulling a staff from his trunk. It was a gorgeous thing, and Cullen could feel its power from across the room. A skull mounted on wood, oak tendrils from its mouth. “Maker, Rutherford, pick your jaw up off the floor. I won’t zap you in your sleep.” He chuckled, leaning the staff against the wall.

Was his shock that obvious? Cullen had brought his own sword to the campus. It was at the bottom of his trunk, wrapped in careful silk, but certainly not quite as lethal as Dorian’s staff. Or maybe it was. Deciding not to slip into the mental olympics of deciding whether magic or a blade was more deadly, he instead offered a nervous laugh in return. “Of course. How kind of you.”

Dorian must have appreciated the joke, as he smirked.

 

They lapsed into silence, finishing their moving in. Dorian’s side was far more scholarly than Cullens. Dorian’s was all books and tomes and magical items, exotic silks and expensive-looking accessories thrown haphazardly around the space. It was a stark contrast to Cullen’s minimalist, controlled side. His sword was under his bed, which had carefully folded sheets in plain greys and blackes. The trunk at the end of his bed held most of his clothes. On the table beside his bed, Cullen had put an alarm clock and a small jewelry box filled with trinkets and tokens from old war friends and his home.

 

“To assembly, then?” Dorian asked, securing his staff on its holster on his back and looking at Cullen.

 

He hadn’t considered it before, but Cullen reached under his bed, holstering his own sword on his side and nodding.

  
Old habits died hard.


	2. Chapter 2

The assembly area was gorgeous. The information pamphlets couldn’t do justice to the elegant pointed arches that supported the high ceiling of the room. They didn’t capture the earthy, natural scent of the space. The picture descriptions didn’t detail how a single whisper carried across the room, filling it with mystifying acoustic white noise. It was an enchanting space, filled with a magic of its own making, and it was intoxicating. 

For once, the thought of magic didn’t entirely unsettle Cullen.

He walked in beside Dorian, both of them far too entranced by the scenery to speak to one another. At the far end of the hall, a podium was set up next to an antique Enchanter’s Seat. More magical paraphernalia. As the duo walked further into the room, rows of folded chairs began. They contrasted almost comically with the regal, antique charm of the room. In a room full of strangers, Cullen was glad to know someone, even if it was a Tevinter mage.

Andraste’s mercy, he had to stop thinking that way. They sat about five rows from the front, and Cullen let himself take a good look at some of the students in the hall. Most of them were also armed, carrying everything from great swords to daggers to staves. However, the staves were the least numerous of them all. A twinge in Cullen’s gut. The Circles. He cleared his throat and faced forward, looking at what details he could make out of the Seat and allowing himself to zone out, just a bit, taking in the events of the day.

“-- are you even listening to me, you daft fool?” 

Dorian’s voice. Cullen snapped out of his reverie. “Sorry?”

“Ugh. I was telling you about the throne. You looked like you were about to jump from your seat and swallow it whole, but I suppose you have more important things to worry about. Pay me no mind.” Dorian said with a flick of his wrist, opening his mouth to add something else before being interrupted by the humming sound of the microphone being turned on.

Then, the President entered the room from a door to the men’s left. She was as Cullen had heard-- small in frame, but with an undeniable presence and gravity. She was beautiful, brown hair cropped at her shoulders and tucked behind pointed ears. Walking up to the podium, she looked at the crowd of students, some of which were still arriving, and offered a smile.

 

“Good afternoon, students. Thank you for making it to this assembly, despite attendance not being mandatory.” Some students started muttering to one another, but none got up and left. “I wanted to personally welcome you to Skyhold. As the President of this University, I’ve had the honor of welcoming many thousands of students to this institution in the years since its founding.” As she spoke, a second elf, presumably the Vice President, emerged. This elicited a few more hushed murmurs, as he crossed the stage and took a seat on the throne. Undoubtedly some kind of nonverbal show of force. “Today, we welcome Skyholds largest class to date. We have students from all areas of Thedas, from Orlais to the Tevinter Imperium. Students, thank you for travelling whatever distance you have in pursuit of a higher education. We hope that Skyhold will live up and surpass your hopes for the next four to five years of your attendance, and beyond.” She said, pausing to smile as some whoops broke out among the crowd. “There is some business to attend to, but I will leave that to the Vice President to discuss. For now, I will simply focus on the formalities. As a school with a diverse and complex student body, I encourage you all to be welcoming and open to all your peers. University is a time to expand your worldview and learn new and interesting ideologies.

“It can be scary to suddenly be thrown into this kind of environment. This said, there is a zero tolerance policy for hateful speech and acts. While debating ideas academically is more than welcome in the walls of Skyhold, any hate crimes will be handled severely. On this note, I would like to address our campus’s open carry policy. Skyhold has a proud reputation as the only campus this side of Ferelden to maintain open carry policies. This means that any weapons are allowed to be on your person at any time. This is due to some of the inherent dangers of living in an otherwise unsettled part of the mountains. However, student-to-student violence outside of sparring is also unwelcome. 

“I know I might sound all business right now, but I trust you all understand that there are some important issues that must be tackled in front of the entire student body in the interest of a better campus lifestyle. I welcome you all to Skyhold, and will hand the mic over to our Vice President to discuss the technical matters of your first week here, and our welcoming activities. Thank you for your time.”

She smiled, bowed her head, and left the stage, exiting the room with grace.

 

The next half hour, which the author could have likely detailed in stark, boring dialogue, but elected not to, involved the Vice President talking for far longer than anyone cared to listen, and largely consisted instructions on confirming class choices, finding jobs on and around campus, and how to survive if leaving Skyhold. When the lecture ended, Dorian and Cullen both rose to their feet as students began funneling out of the doors to the castle and into the courtyard.

 

“That was dreadful.” Dorian said, frowning. “Was that twenty-minute scpheal on the historical significance of Skyhold entirely necessary?”

“Probably not.” Cullen replied, shrugging. “But it’s over now, so I suppose we at least have that.”

“That and a glaring headache.” Dorian muttered. Cullen could tell that Dorian had already decided how he was going to feel about the speech, and nothing he said could change it. So he said nothing. Dorian was courteous enough to fill the silence, despite his glaring headache. “It’s a shame that so few mages carry their staves on them. It’s the most beautiful part of being a mage-- getting to parade around with a stick topped with whatever fancy doodad has been imbued with magic. So much more grace than a pointy metal stick. Wouldn’t you agree, Cullen?”

“Mmhm.” He replied. There was no way in hell he would try to argue with Dorian about the dangers of unbridled magic. The President’s words about tolerance echoed in his mind, and he was all too eager to keep that word. Honor, some would say, would be Cullen’s downfall.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My fav feature of this chapter is where I got bored of writing blocks of dialogue and skipped over it entirely


	3. Chapter 3

“Cullen Rutherford.” He said, managing his best smile as he offered a hand to shake.

The other student, in question, was a Qunari. The tall, imposing, strong-looking kind. The kind that didn’t do handshakes, but rather went for a formidable pat on the shoulder and a wide grin. “I’ve got to say,” he retorted, “You have got to be the first person to greet me that didn’t look like they were about to shit themselves at the sight of me.”

The other students weren’t as good at acting.

 

Cullen and Dorian had gone separate ways after the assembly. Dorian was meeting with some other Mages, and since Cullen knew that they would be able to smell the Templar (or, the Lyrium) on him from a mile away, he decided to make up an excuse to go back to his dorm. He, of course, didn’t go back to his dorm. Instead, he headed to the old pub. The upper levels were dorms, but the bottom remained a common area with drinks for anyone who could afford them, and provide the right ID. It seemed like the right place for Cullen. Not because of the drinking, that is, but because of the social aspect. He knew that in such a small student body, it was important to make friends. Or at least, convenient acquaintances. The Qunari in question had been sitting at the bar, surprisingly alone in the room full of people, meaning they had something in common. So he’d been the obvious choice to approach.

 

“I’m sorry,” Cullen said, “I didn’t catch your name.”

“That’s because I didn’t say it.” The Qunari replied. “The Iron Bull.”

The Iron Bull? Sounded clunky. “Nice to meet you.” Cullen said.

“Certainly hope so.” Bull replied with a grin, “You’re a Templar, then?”

“I-- well--” It one of those questions that was a lot easier asked than answered. “I’m not active duty. How did you know?”

“The way you hold the pommel. Look, don’t be so flustered. Combat’s my specialty. Though I’m surprised you don’t look a bit more burned out. I thought they only dropped Templars when that Lyrium started driving you mad.”

Bull was, if anything, open and forward. “It was a bit more complicated than that.” Cullen answered plainly.

“We’ve got time, kid.” Bull answered. “Get yourself a drink and tell me what happened.”

Cullen was glad to oblige on the premier suggestion, asking for some kind of cheap ale that wouldn’t murder his wallet. “Would you believe me if I said it was classified?”

“No,” Bull replied, “But I can take a no. I won’t punch you if you don’t want to talk about it. Rutherford.”

Right. Of course. 

This was when that strange silence--- “You see that redhead?” Bull asked, nudging Cullen’s shoulder with the back of his hand and jerking his chin in the direction of a dwarf who was presently surrounded by a few delicate-looking elves, smiling and giggling. They must have been friends. How token. 

“What of her?” Cullen asked, finding himself staring at her.

“She’s got an amazing ass.” 

Cullen looked at Bull, eyebrows raised. He was right, but to just out and say it like that? To a near-stranger? Wow. “Well--”

“Krem!” Bull said, voice a near-roar as a refreshingly human man who, obviously, knew Bull, took up a seat beside him that had been empty beforehand. “Krem, this is Cullen. Got kicked out of the Templars, now he’s at Skyhold.”

“Templar, eh?” Krem asked.

He hadn’t been kicked out of the Templars, but he wasn’t about to argue the point. “Former, yes.” Cullen said. “Nice to meet you, Krem.”

“Ahh, he’s one of the blokes caught up in the formalities, is ‘e?” Krem asked, a devilish smirk on his lips.

Formalities? Manners, maybe, but it wasn’t as if he was bowing and sending notes with his handkerchief. Maker’s breath, he was beginning to doubt if Bull was worth befriending. He just--- wasn’t Cullen’s crowd. Krem continued, “Cremisius Aclassi. I see you’ve met Bull already.”

“Yes.” Cullen replied, smiling tensely. “You two know each other?”

“Krem’s worked for me for a year or so.” Bull replied. “Part of my team. Somehow managed to keep from me that he was applying to Skyhold, though.” He said, turning to look at Krem. “To be honest, didn’t think ‘e had the brains in him.”

“That’s hot, coming from the guy who can only get his point across if he’s got a giant mallet in his hands.” Krem countered.

“Didn’t know you thought that of my mallet, Krem.” Bull said, grinning. “The one between my leg’s got a bit more influence, though.” He said. “What about yours?”

An unspoken joke passed between them, and they lapsed into roaring laughter. This was when Cullen realized that he was third-wheeling their trip to the bar. “Well, I should be going.”

“So soon?” Bull asked, turning to face Cullen, who was already rising, having barely touched his beer. “Say, can we have your drink, then?” 

“Of course.” Cullen said, smiling. 

If anything, he was thankful that he had gotten to know someone, anyone on campus. As he made his way to the exit, however, he was stopped by a hand on his shoulder, tapping it eagerly. Cullen turned on his heel, finding himself looking at a frankly beautiful, olive-skinned student who smiled at him warmly. “Hello, I’m Josephine. Montilyet. Josephine Montilyet, and I’m a member of the student government here at Skyhold.” She said, with an accent that was foreign. Exotic enough to be beautiful, and subtle enough to be transfixing.

“Cullen Rutherford.” He replied, returning the smile.

“Right. Cullen. I’m working on profiles of first-year students here at the University, and I hoped to ask if it wouldn’t be too much trouble.” 

Even if it had been, she was far too kind to say no to. “I’ve got time.”

“Excellent. Right this way.” Josephine said, smiling at him once before turning and leading him to a table with two empty chairs, and a third which was presently occupied by a serious-looking woman with auburn hair cropped into a short bob. She nodded at Josephine, but hardly recognized Cullen’s presence. “This is Leliana.” Josephine said, motioning at the woman in question. “She’s part of a few other organizations on campus. Leliana, I hope you do not mind that I’m taking the time to interview this student.”

“Of course not.”

Cullen sat in one of the open chairs, facing the door. Josephine pulled out a paper, taking the cap off her pen and beginning to jot down some words. “Cullen, was it?” She asked sweetly, looking up at him. He nodded. She looked back down, writing some more. “Cullen, what grade are you in?”

“This is my first year at the University.”

“Very well, thank you.” Scribbling. “Now, what are you studying?”

A very good question, which definitely deserved a very good answer, which Cullen didn’t happen to have. “I’m not sure.” He said, “I’m undeclared. Maybe mass communications, or something along those lines.” The selection of majors at Skyhold was small, but that hadn’t deterred Cullen. He’d get a degree in peeling grapes if it meant spending four years at Skyhold.

“Interesting. And Cullen-- It was Cullen, right?”

“Right.”

“Where are you from?”

A pause. “I served as a Templar before coming here.”

“Oh?” Josephine asked, pen pausing for a moment before returning to its scribbling.

“Yes.”

Josephine looked up from the paper. “Forgive me for being cliché, Cullen, but what is your life goal? What do you want Skyhold to help you achieve?”

A very worthy question. One Cullen didn’t know how to answer. “I’m-- not sure. I want to stay in the military. I can say that. Maybe work in an executive position. I just know that I can get the education I need here.”

Josephine nodded, pen flying as she wrote notes. “Now, one more thing before I send you on your way, please.” She said, “What’s your favorite part of Skyhold so far?”

She certainly wasn’t taking it easy, was she? Maybe he could be cliché and tell her that it was all the friends he’d made, but that was a lie. Dorian was less a friend and more an acquaintance, and Bull and Krem seemed far too busy being friends with each other to make friends with anyone else. The sights were kind, and the architecture gorgeous, but she’d know that was a cop-out. “The sense of community.” Cullen finally said, “I feel like I can talk to anyone. You know, no fear of judgement.”

This seemed to please Josephine, and she wrote down a few more notes. “Thank you for your time, Cullen. You can’t believe how long I’ve been looking for someone who wouldn’t turn me down.” She laughed, but he could tell she was upset by it. “But I’ve got what I needed, so feel free to go on your way.”

Cullen almost got up. But then he realized the opportunity this presented. Friends. Maybe not best friends, maybe just two more Dorians, but friends nonetheless. “Well, I’d like to know a little more about you.” He said, smiling kindly at her.

It was obvious that Josephine wasn’t very accustomed to the question. “Oh?” She asked, cocking her head tightly. “What would you like to know?”

She had capped her pen, but kept it in her hand, turning it over slowly and fiddling with it. Cullen glanced at the other women-- Leilani? Before turning his attention to Josephine. “How do you two know one another?” 

Josephine smiled. “Oh, Leliana and I?” She asked. “We were friends for some time in our teens. Life pulled us apart, but when we met again here-- well,” she giggled, “I guess some friendships truly are forever, aren’t they?” 

Leliana nodded, glaring daggers at Cullen. Maybe she was an acquired taste.

But he was up for a challenge. “Leliana, is it?” He asked.

“Yes.”

“What do you do around here?”

“Study, mostly.”

“Mostly? What else?”

“I’m part of some campus organizations. I do some online work for the University.”

It seemed that she was refusing to crack. Very well. “Sounds interesting.”

“It is.”

Likely realizing how stranded Cullen was, Josephine threw a line. “Tell Cullen about your club.” She said, gently nudging Leliana’s elbow.

Upon being addressed by Josephine, she seemed to untense. “I run a small club that keeps tabs on campus. You know, making sure that no one is trying to sabotage anything. Making sure no students step out of line.”

“Out of line?” Cullen asked.

“Skyhold has a…. Delicate history, Cullen.” She said. “My organization keeps that history in tact.”

Things were getting too dark and underworld-y for Cullen’s tastes. He glanced at a clock on the far wall. Almost eight. Maybe it was time he go back to his dorm and get ready to sleep. Class started in three days, and there was no way in hell he’d be messing up his sleep schedule before class even started. “That sounds like a noble undertaking, Leliana.” Cullen replied with a gentle smile. He rose. “I need to leave, though. We have that, ah--- thing tomorrow.”

“The social?” Josephine asked, face lighting up.

“Yes, that.” He pushed his chair in. “I’m sure I’ll see you there, Josephine.”

“Goodbye, Cullen.” Josephine said with a smile. 

He left.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Leliana is very much the weird emo kid who barks at people who make eye contact with her in this AU and I wish I was sorry


	4. Chapter 4

The warm shower was a feeling almost as good as sex. After a day of hauling heavy things across campus and into his room, dealing with lectures, and meeting new people, the water seemed kind in how it washed away the things Cullen was exhausted by. His back was still slightly sore from the exertion, but the cold water made the pain lessen, and thus he found a way to cope.

When he stepped out of the shower, drying himself off with a towel before stepping into some bedclothes, Cullen took a moment to wipe the fog off the mirror in the cramped bathroom, taking a good look at himself. The scar on his lip always bothered him-- it set his entire face off balance, some kind of visceral reminder that the battles he was in would follow him forever. Battle. The word was like a punch in the gut. Just the sound of it in his head was like two shields colliding. Battle. 

Cullen looked at the box he’d put on top of some extra towels. 

Lyrium. 

It was no secret that Templars owed their talents to the thing. It was also no secret that most, if not all, of them ended up addicted to it. Then it drove them crazy, then they died. When Cullen had left the Templars, he’d managed a few weeks without Lyrium before caving in and nearly killing himself with how much he took. Since then, it’d all been ups and downs. Sometimes, he’d go nearly a month without so much as lick of Lyrium. Other times-- the times when the nightmares were worse-- he had to get his hit every day. 

Every night, it was a debate. If he took it, he didn’t worry about nightmares. But he didn’t have any the night before, and slept fine. Back and forth, back and forth. He opened the box, the eerie blue glow beckoning.

There was a knock at the bathroom door, and cullen closed it. “Dorian?”

“The one and only.” The voice replied through the door. “Do you think you could pamper yourself out here, so I can tend to my own needs?” He asked.

Sass had no curfew. Cullen tucked the box under his stack of towels, opening the door and slipping past Dorian, who was already holding his own stack of fluffy, likely pricey, towels. He closed the door behind him, and Cullen was alone in the room. He sat on his bed, legs hanging off the side, and looked around the room. He had left his sword by the door, and it glistened in the soft light of the dorm’s lamps. Lifting his dogtags from the bedstand, Cullen placed them around his neck, lying down in the bed and looking up at the ceiling. What a long day. How unforgiving this atmosphere was.

Before Dorian finished his shower, Cullen was out cold.

 

And then he wasn’t.

A loud hissing sound woke Cullen, stirring him from a very comfortable sleep with absolutely no ceremony. He groaned, sitting up and rubbing his eyes. A glance at the clock.

Four in the morning. Hell no.

Cullen lay back down, closing his eyes, trying to tune out the hissing, but nothing worked. He muttered something blasphemous under his breath, then rose to his feet, ready to verbally destroy whoever was making the noise. Cullen opened the door, looking out. Further down the ramparts, one of the unoccupied towers (presumably still under construction) glowed with a green light. It felt like Magic. It had that… feeling to it. Stumbling out of his pajamas and into something that wouldn’t allow him to freeze to death in the freezing night air, Cullen reached for his sword.

It fell down, clanging loudly. Cullen’s head snapped to look at Dorian, who grumbled, propping himself up on his elbows and looking at Cullen. “Sneaking out?” He asked, voice gruff. “How adorable.”

Cullen held up a finger to his lips.

“I will not be silent.” Dorian snapped, voice a near-hiss. “You can’t go about knocking things down in the night and expect me to be complacent.”

A groan.

“What is it, then?” Dorian asked, standing up and shuffling over to where Cullen stood, looking over his shoulder. “Oh, my.” He said, voice small.

For once, he was speechless.

“What is that?”

“No clue.” Cullen said, “But it can’t be good.” He kneeled down, picking up his sword, strapping it around his waist. “I’m going to check it out.”

“And get yourself killed?” Dorian asked, frowning. “It’s probably-- I don’t know, something. Just go to bed, Cullen. You’re being theatrical about all this.”

He, admittedly, was. “Are you sure-”

“I’m a mage, Cullen.” Dorian said, “I know what evil looks like. Just go to bed and stop being such a baby.” 

Cullen, all too eager to comply, took off his sword, kicking off his pants and collapsing back into bed. And the night ended like that, the hissing lulling him to sleep.

 

But it wasn’t there when he woke up.

 

Neither was Dorian.

 

Somewhat disoriented, Cullen glanced at his alarm clock. Ten in the morning. The social didn’t start until six at night, so at least he hadn’t missed that. This said, waking up late had costed Cullen his chance to eat breakfast without looking like a miserable recluse. Within a few minutes, he dressed himself, shrugging on his jacket, and headed out the door, sword swinging faithfully from his hip. 

The morning air was crisp. It was a wake-up call, knocking all drowsiness out of Cullen. By the time he had descended the stairs and made his way across the courtyard, he was wide awake. 

Inside the dining hall, tables of food waited to be picked over. Cullen was surprised how many people were getting their breakfast so late in the morning. Then he remembered that most of them, like him, had collapsed after a long move-in day. Taking a seat at an otherwise secluded corner of the table, Cullen began filling his plate. Eggs, bacon, sausage-- it smelled delicious. He dug in, the fluffy eggs reminding him of home cooking.

And then someone sat beside him. “Cullen!”

Josephine. “Good morning.” He said, offering her a smile.

“How is your first morning at Skyhold?” She asked. The pen was in her hand, but the cap was on. Did she ever put it down? 

“I’ll let you know as soon as it starts.” Cullen joked taking another bite of the perfect eggs.

“Very well.” She said, taking a bite of her own breakfast, some combination of chicken and other foods that Cullen was fairly certain should have been reserved for dinner.

For a few moments, they sat in silence, enjoying their food. Then Leliana joined them, sitting across from Josephine wordlessly, eating a bowl of cereal.

**_Dry._ **

What a monster. 

Cullen offered a full-mouthed smile at Leliana, who just bowed her head slightly and returned to eating her cereal. The sudden lack of pressure to speak made Cullen feel a lot more comfortable, and they enjoyed the next few minutes in silence, eating their breakfast. 

“Josephine?” He asked, looking up from his empty plate to her. 

“Mmhm?” She asked, mouth full.

“You said you work for the newspaper-- are you a first year student here?”

“Mm-m.” She shook her head, then held up three fingers.

Her third year at Skyhold, then. It only made Cullen wonder what year Leliana was on, but he had a feeling she wouldn’t tell him. “So-- can you tell me about this social tonight?” 

Josephine paused, swallowing her food and wiping off her mouth. “It’s the Courtyard Party. A Skyhold tradition of sorts. They say it started one year when some first-years threw a party on the Courtyard without permission. If the stories are true, then the President came out, stopping the forty-odd students in their tracks. She asked who was responsible, and once the scapegoat was identified, she told him how irresponsible it was to have a party with no food! She joined the party herself, and since then, it became a tradition. The first week of every year, there’s a party in the Courtyard. The President doesn’t attend anymore, though. No one is quite sure why.”

Leliana looked up from her bowl. “She has an image to defend.”

Unshaken by Leliana’s comment, Josephine continued. “You cannot miss it, Cullen.”

He nodded. “Then I won’t.” 

She smiled, and Leliana remained blank. Josephine was kind, Cullen would say that without hesitation, but something made him want to know more about Leliana. Maybe that was her directive-- maybe it wasn’t.

Cullen’s sword bumped the bench as he stood, dropping his plate into a large bucket with other dirty dishes, and leaving the castle. 

The courtyard grass had been freshly cut. Students stood in huddles, sat in circles, travelling the grounds, filling them with a warm energy, making Cullen feel as if he could do anything. He glanced up at the tower, the one from the previous night. He wondered why it had glowed, why it had been so loud, but he knew it hadn’t glowed during the day, so he had nothing to worry about. At least, not during the day.

“Cullen!”   
Dorian. Cullen descended the steps, greeting his roommate at the bottom of them. “Good morning.”

“Isn’t it?” Dorian asked, smiling. “Now, Dorian-- what happened last night.”

“Don’t worry about it.” Cullen replied, all too eager to forget about it. 

“Very well, I suppose I won’t then.” He paused taking a quick glance around the courtyard. “This is certainly an interesting crowd. The whole place… it reeks of. I don’t know. Academia? Nerves? Unresolved sexual tension?” He asked, throwing out suggestions.

“Maybe a mix of all of them.” Cullen suggested, and they began walking side by side. He wasn’t sure where to, but anything was better than simply standing around. “Will you be going to the social tonight?”

“Of course.” Dorian replied, tone almost offended. “Do you really think that I, Dorian Pavus, would miss out on a chance to enjoy myself?”

“I guess not.”

Dorian laughed. “I can’t blame you for underestimating me, you don’t know me very well, do you?” he stopped walking. “You will be there too, right?”

“It seems as if you don’t present me with much of an option.”

Another laugh. “You’re right on that count. As your roommate, I am obligated to make sure you don’t waste away in the dorm, worrying about mysterious lights at three in the morning. Also, I make a damned good wingman.”

Maybe they would be friends. “I won’t be needing--”

“Oh but of course you won’t!” Dorian replied, words dripping with sarcasm. “Mister tall blonde and handsome’s already got suitors lining up for him, doesn’t he? I don’t blame them, honestly. Fine. Go on without me, you absolute bloody maverick.”

Well, if he insisted. “It’s not that I have girls lining up for me--””

“Guys, then?” Dorian asked. Why was he suddenly grilling Cullen like this? It all felt very out of the blue. “Don’t worry, Cullen, you’re easy on the eyes, the’ll be after you, too. Probably more rabid than the girls, I’d venture to say.”

“Dorian!” Cullen said, finally stopping him, “I’m not interested in that right now. That’s what I’m trying to say. I… don’t want a relationship.”

“Sex, then?” 

Maybe. “Not really.”

“So, what, you’re asexual then?”

“Why is this so important to you, Dorian?”

“Oh, my. Touchy. Fine. You can interrogate me about my sex life if you want.”

“No thanks.”

“Don’t say I didn’t offer.”

Their conversation dropped into silence for a few precious minutes. 

Dorian and Cullen found themselves back in the bar, sitting by themselves, chatting calmly about their classes. Dorian was frustrated that the class on Tevinter culture was being taught by someone of Orlesian descent, and Cullen was angry that their sparring area was half the size it needed to be. 

Then, neither of them had any room to be angry, because they were being intruded upon by another student that neither of them knew, a blonde elf with a massive grin on her face. The moment she sat down, she started babbling to them.

“-- which is when I told ‘im, shove it up yer arse!” She giggled, then snorted, taking a sip of something she’d probably had too much of already and continuing. “Best part is, ‘e almost did! Prideful bastard!” 

It was then that someone who looked to be on the cooking staff came up to their table. “Give me back my ring!” He said to her.

“I’m sorry?” She asked incredulously.

All Cullen could do was watch as the unbelievable events unfolded.

“You took my ring!” 

“No I didn’t!” She protested, thick accent bordering on obnoxious. “I’ve been wit’ my friends this whole time. I just finished this story-”

The cook glared at Sera as she began to tell a story about how she seduced a bouncer at a club just so she could hit on one of the dancers, then he interrupted her. “Fine, just--- shut up.” And he turned and walked away.

She grinned, looking back and forth from Cullen to Dorian, and back at Cullen, before collapsing into maniacal laughter at their mutual bewilderment. “Name’s Sera.” She finally said, having composed herself.

“Would you mind telling us exactly what just happened?” Dorian asked.

“Oh, that?” She asked. “I stole ‘is ring, obviously.” Without hesitation, she pulled a plain-looking silver ring from her pocket. “Except it wasn’t really ‘is. He stole it from my friend, so I took it back. There you have it!” She laughed again. “And he tried to tell me it was his! Isn’t really stealin’ if it isn’t theirs to begin with, now is it?”

It was logic Cullen couldn’t quite argue with. “Right.”

He looked at Dorian, and they exchanged equally lost looks.

“Well then, I can tell when I’m not welcome.” Sera quipped. “You two play fair now, I’m goin’ ta’ return this ring to its rightful owner.” 

And just like that, she was gone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sera is so precious and I love writing her. I love writing her almost as much as I love Cole.


	5. Chapter 5

Cullen had been to his fair share of parties. Being a conventionally attractive, well-built guy had meant that any time there was a party worth going to, he was invited. This said, he was never quite sure if he enjoyed them or not. He was always on Lyrium, and the strong kind, too. Tripping off his balls while he went through the night. 

Parties always went one of two very different ways for Cullen. Either he sulked in a corner the whole time, chatting with whoever sat next to him, drinking whatever they handed him, and mellowing out, or he’d actually party. You know, find a girl, get her hot, take her somewhere private, show her what Lyrium does to one’s sex drive. And, honestly, he wasn’t really interested in either of those possibilities for the Courtyard party. This was why, for once, he didn’t take Lyrium beforehand.

As soon as he arrived, he knew it had been a bad idea. Was being able to say he’d gone three weeks without taking Lyrium really worth the headache the crowd caused? Everyone was so… real when he was sober. Every touch set his nerves on fire, every moment he locked eyes with someone, he felt naked. And then he ran into Josephine. 

Of course, he ran into Josephine.

“Hello, Cullen!” She said, smiling kindly at him and tucking her hair behind her ear. “I’m glad you came.”

That made one of them. “It’s--- loud.”

“Oh, I know.” Josephine said, moving closer to him so they didn’t have to yell. “Do you not enjoy it?”

“No, it’s-- fine.” Cullen said, smiling. “Seeing everyone here at once, it’s nice.”

Josephine returned his smile. “I know. Say, Cullen, where is your mage friend?”

“Dorian? Do you know him?” 

“No, but I would like to.”

Cullen glanced over at the throng of dancing students, then back at Josephine. He enjoyed her companionship, but not that much. “I’m sure he’s dancing, you can find him over there.” He said, motioning at the crowd.

“Oh, of course!” She said. “Thank you, Cullen!”

Much obliged.

 

He found the refreshments table, which seemed to overflow with all kinds of food. A cup of what Cullen assumed was punch was all he needed, though, downing it in one sip. It was bittersweet. Tangy. He took another cup, downing it in one sip as well, and shook his head. The headache was clearing, he could think straight again. The edges of the courtyard played host to more deviant acts. Though it was dark, figures were clear in the shadows. Touching, holding, kissing. 

Fucking, probably. 

Cullen turned his gaze back to the dancing. More innocent actions, twirling and shaking. He couldn’t help but smile, couldn’t help but be happy for their happiness. Was it melodramatic to wish he’d feel some soon?

Sure, he’d been warned that the uni experience was nothing like it was made out to be. The charming cafés in tv shows felt cramped and smelled like ass and old beans. Dorms were closets which could barely pass as hospitable for any life, not to mention humans. College was a place where kids were asked to be adults when only three months previous, they couldn’t shit without permission from the school board. It was scary and horrible, and no number of grams of Lyrium could dull that fear.

And then Dorian was at his side.

“Were you the one to send that insufferable Antivan to ask me about my styling products? He asked, glancing around as if he were nervous she was about to pop out as if from some mystical rift in the Fade.

“Well, I sent her for you, but-- well, not for that purpose.” Cullen replied, rubbing his neck nervously. A habit and a tick. Withdrawals. He groaned. “Sorry.”

“Sorry?” Dorian asked, smirking, “I suppose that should suffice. Though if I am to be honest with you, she was mostly harmless. She was convinced that I used my magic to keep it in place or something.”

“Well, do you?”

At this, the mage broke out into laughter. “No!” A pause. “However, that didn’t stop me from telling her I did. You should have seen the look on her face. I might as well have told her the purpose of human life while I was at it.”

Cullen might have laughed, but a familiar hissing broke through the sound of the music. He glanced over his shoulder, over Dorian’s head. The tower. The glow. “Dorian--” He said, wincing. The bright light, even from such a distance, was painful. 

Dorian turned, glanced at the light, and back at Cullen. Then the light again. “Cullen, are you just trying to get out of this party? Be honest with me.”

“Well---- yes.” He said, “But this is more than that. Doesn’t it worry you?”

“No.” Dorian answered flatly, turning away from the light and back to Cullen. “Frankly, the only concerning thing about this whole situation is how little fun you’re having. Honestly, Cullen. Do you hate the entire spectrum of human emotion, or just happiness? Be honest with me, I can take it.”

Cullen chuckled. “Just happiness.”

“Well, looks like we’ll have to do something about that, doesn’t it?” 

Then, Dorian was grabbing Cullen, weaving into the dancing crowd, past other people having much more fun than him, and right to the middle of the whole mess. Then Dorian was dancing, and Cullen was somehow more miserable than before. 

The music was nice. Some messy, EDM trash probably being streamed off of YouTube. It was blasting, causing the ground to shake a little. His bones vibrated. 

Someone grabbed Cullen’s hips, and he was a thousand miles away.

He moved with the stranger, some dark-haired elf with enough guts to come up to Cullen and grind on him without so little as an introduction, and certainly enough curves to make him not mind as much as he should have. He put his hands on her hips, her chest, her throat, pulling her closer to him. Hoping to absorb her happiness, feel something that she was feeling. She was emanating joy, arousal, fear--- terror. The same as him. Cullen was kissing her neck now, addicted to the feeling of reaching for such foreign joy, the natural high of arousal. 

The moment ended with the song, the girl slinking away with a near-invisible kiss to Cullen’s jaw, likely moving on to some other partner who didn’t dance like a cardboard cutout.

 

And then, Cullen was alone in the dance again. He needed a real high. Lyrium. His entire body felt sore, the pain in his back from exertion suddenly a hundred-fold. Everything was everywhere all the time, and Cullen wanted daylight. Stumbling out of the crowd and leaving Dorian behind in the mess, Cullen nearly collapsed on the refreshment table, downing three cups of water, swallowing the melting cubes of ice whole, and regretting it immediately. He felt like he was going to throw up. 

Of course, he didn’t. Instead, he lurched against the table, stumbling away. Further away, up the stairs and into his dorm. Collapsed into the bed. 

 

His nightmares provided no solace from the withdrawals.  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tag yrself I'm cullen getting sick at the concept of every social function ever


	6. Chapter 6

Cullen awoke to something warm-- no, hot-- on his lap. He moved to kick whatever it was off, but felt it lifted from his legs before he could. 

Eyes, open.

Josephine stood over him, holding a plate in her hand, looking quite cross at him while doing so. “Do be careful, Cullen. I’m not sure if I could sneak another plate out for you.”

As his vision came into focus, he slowly realized what was going on. Josephine had brought him breakfast. A quick-once over revealed that Cullen was still in his outfit from the previous night-- a tight shirt that had earned him that dance with the mysterious elf, and pants that, while complimenting to his physique, were also far too tight. He wanted to take them off. Realizing he couldn’t, Cullen propped himself up in bed. “You--- got me breakfast?”

His skull split. Fuck. The day was already asking too much of him.

“Of course I did. Dorian wouldn’t stop asking me to do something about you. Are you okay, by the way?”

No. “I’ve been better.” Cullen answered honestly, taking a piece of sausage between two fingers and putting it in his mouth. What had tasted so great the previous day felt like rubber that morning. He was bad. He took another piece, just to humor Josephine, who he simply didn’t deserve.

“I can tell.” She replied, setting the plate down and standing up, looking around the room. “Dorian has certainly outdone himself with these decorations.” She said, and as she turned to examine some tapestries, Cullen picked up the plate and dropped half the eggs into the trash can beside his bed. “Puts you to shame, really.” Josephine said, turning to face Cullen and putting her hands on her hips. “Now, Dorian told me not to leave until you-- ah, what were his words? Until you got your pathetic, a-- ah, butt out of bed. I think.” She was spinning the pen in her fingers again. Where had it come from?

He didn’t want to get out of bed. The sun running under the door was already overwhelming, but Cullen could tell Josephine wouldn’t leave until he did, too. So Cullen got on his feet, nearly falling down as soon as he did. Vertigo. He retched, trying to play it down, but knowing Josephine saw it anyway.

“Cullen--”

“I’m FINE.” He barked, holding a hand out as he shuffled along the wall, definitely far from fine. Just a few more steps from the bathroom, from his stash, from sanity.

“You need to rest, Cullen.”

“I just need-- to wash my face.” He stammered, opening the bathroom door and using his weight to close it behind himself, falling to his knees on the hardwood, dry-heaving. Fuck. This was bad.

Shaking hands grabbed the box, opening it up and pulling out the vial that held the Lyrium. Tap tap. It glowed. Cullen took off the cap, taking a shallow whiff of it. 

Like sex.

He tapped out the powder into the lid of the box, pulling out a card. Tap, tap, tap. Lines.

When he was taught how to take Lyrium, he remembered having been joked to about how it looked like lines of soldiers at attention. Snort. Snort. Snort. Snort. 

The initial high floored Cullen, causing him to slump against the wall.

This wasn’t good. 

Having returned to his senses, cullen closed the canister, the box, shoved it back into the pile of towels. Getting on his feet, he splashed cool water on his face. It felt real. Opening the door, Cullen saw Josephine sitting on his bed, picking at some of the sausage he hadn’t touched.

“Cullen!” She said, nearly dropping the plate in shock. “You look-- better.” A smile.

He returned it. “I feel better. Amazing what a splash of water will do, huh?”

Cullen had the world by the balls. He took off his shirt, only realizing how inappropriate it was when it was on the floor. 

“Oh!”

He glanced at Josephine, who blushed, pink undertones flushing her olive skin. “Sorry.”

He wasn’t sorry at all. He liked putting on a show, shuffling through his trunk and putting on something that didn’t make him choke with every motion. Grabbing a different pair of jeans, he retreated to the bathroom long enough to change. When he emerged, Josephine was standing, pen twirling, with a smile. “Now, there we go. Dorian’s in the library. I-- he didn’t make it clear if he wanted to talk to you or not. Though you might want to say something to him. He seemed…. Perturbed.”

Then she was gone. 

Cullen strapped on his sword, and soon, so was he.

The library was only hard to find because of how small it was. Marked by a few shelves and a single low chair that Dorian was currently inhabiting, it had a strange and quaint charm that was shared with the rest of the school. 

“Dorian.”

He looked up over the book, at Cullen, then back at the text.

“Dorian.”

Nothing.

“Dorian, come on.”

“You left the party early.”

“What-- of course I did. I was miserable, Dorian.”

“Didn’t seem too miserable when that Dalish girl went to town on you.”

Deciding that he felt far too well to be arguing with Dorian on anything, he shrugged. “The music sucked.”

A laugh. “It did, didn’t it? EDM is garbage, Cullen. Such a waste of musical talent.”

“Right.”

Silence swooped in on them, and Cullen turned to leave.

“Cullen?” Dorian asked, standing up.

“Yes?”

“Let me know if you’re going to run off like that again. You’ve already got one scar on your face. Anymore will take you from mysterious and rugged to beat up and a tragic four.”

Cullen laughed at this, far too doped up to care. “I’m glad I have you as my roommate.”

“Why’s that? The looks, or the charm?” 

A shrug. “The companionship.”

“You flatter me.”

Maybe he did.

 

Cullen left Dorian to his own devices. He was feeling formidable-- it was time to make use of the campus sparring grounds. Tucked away behind the dorm-bar-whatever he might have called it was a fenced off area. Before he even got there, Cullen could hear the sounds of battle. Metal on metal, thunks and whooshes. Sounds he knew. It took every ounce of strength in his body not to sprint the rest of the distance from where he stood and the grounds. Instead, he drew his sword, walking up to a currently-neglected dummy and cutting it across-- with more force than he thought. Instead of simply slicing open the straw dummy, the entire thing broke clean in half. It landed on the ground with a thud.

“Careful what you do with that thing, kid. Might kill someone.”

The voice was recognizable, and Cullen turned to face the Qunari. Iron Bull. “Well-- that’s how I was trained to use it.”

“That you were.” He said with a chuckle. “Can’t blame ya. Ex-Templar, right? Must have quite some blood on your hands. Far too young for it, too.” A pause, it seemed he realized how grim he was getting. “Who taught you to swing like that?”

“It was part of my Templar training.”   
“Of course it was. You really know how to handle that thing, shame it’s so small. You look like you could do some real damage with the right blade.” 

And he had, although the impact of the deaths he’d caused didn’t carry much weight in that moment, not through the Lyrium high. “Thanks.” Cullen replied plainly, before quite cockily adding, “Bet I could take you and that great sword without a shield.”

Bull laughed. He didn’t just laugh, he roared. His chest heaved as he nearly collapsed with laughter at the offer. “Listen, Cullen. It is Cullen, right? Listen, I’ll give you a pass this time, because you don’t know me well, but trust me when I tell you that this thing,” he said, gesturing at the sword strapped to his back, “Could chop you in half even in those ridiculous metal skirts they make you wear during your service.”

Okay, the skirts had been retired a decade ago, but Cullen got the point.

Bull’s fist was the size of Cullen’s face, there really wasn’t anything working in his favor in that equation. So he shrugged. “Show me what you’ve got, then.”   
He stepped aside, offering one of the undamaged dummies to Bull, who didn’t say a word, huffing and flexing before drawing his sword. It shined dangerously in the sunlight. He raised it over his head, bringing it straight down, slicing the PVC pipe holding the dummy in half and burying the blade in the ground. With a grunt, he pulled it from the soil, wiping it off on exposed cloth and returning it to the holster on his back.

Quite a show of force. “Nice.” Cullen said, grinning, examining the blade’s handiwork up close. “A clean cut. You sure know how to swing, Bull.”

A shrug. “I did my own kind of service to my people.” He said smugly. “They didn’t even make me wear a skirt.”

“Damn shame,” Cullen joked, going out on a limb. “You’ve got the body for a miniskirt.”

Another roaring laugh. “I think you’ll fit right in here, Rutherford.”

 

Maybe he ought to take Lyrium more often.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Josephine is literally #friendshipgoals and cullen is the only person who gives her any credit. it's not fair


	7. Chapter 7

The hissing that night was unbearable. 

It had to be, in order to wake up Cullen. He was still high from his Lyrium that morning, meaning his sleep had been deep. Sitting up and rubbing his eyes, Cullen stifled a yawn.

“Damn thing’s woken you up too, then?” Dorian muttered.

Cullen could make out his shape, standing up, moving around. “Yeah… barely.”

“I’ve had more than enough of that sound. I say we finally do something about it.” Without asking, he flicked on the lights, flooding the room with light and causing Cullen’s ill-adjusted eyes to see stars. 

“About time.” Cullen said, standing up.

Dorian was getting into-- combat armor? He’d brought it to Skyhold? A bit extreme, but it seemed like it’d come into use.

“You… brought armor.” Cullen said, shrugging on a jacket as he slipped on his sword.

“Of course I did.” Dorian replied flatly. “Never know when mysterious hissing and glowing from a construction site might crop up, now do you?” If anything, Cullen commended Dorian for his innate ability to dodge every question he was asked. “And now you’ll look the fool, with that ridiculous jacket and pajama combo.”

Right. He was in his pajamas. 

Dropping his sword and Jacket, Cullen kneeled down, shuffling through his trunk. There had to be something formidable--- he couldn’t pick cargo pants, Dorian would never let him live it down.

A military jacket from his service and jeans would have to do. 

It was almost comical, the two of them walking together. A Tevinter mage, staff brandished, decked out in combat armor, and an ex-Templar, sword drawn, walking in step with him.

Unfortunately, the first conflict they found wasn’t any unbridled magic, but rather a locked door.

“Can’t you just…. Magic it open?” Cullen hissed anxiously as Dorian fiddled with the thing.

“I don’t know,” He snapped, “Can’t you just sword it open?”

Good point. Without telling Dorian to pull back, Cullen delivered one-- two-- three swift kicks to the vulnerable part of the door, and on the third, something in it crunched loudly, and it swung open.

“There.” Cullen replied, barely having enough time to regain his balance before he and Dorian were both blasted back by some kind of raw energy, sliding several feet down the ramparts. Scrambling to his feet, battlefield instinct taking over, Cullen dove forward, grabbing his sword and coming to his feet. He looked over his shoulder. Dorian was down.

A screech, inhuman. Unbridled.

Dorian was on his feet immediately, casting a barrier around Cullen. “Go, then, you oaf!” He shouted at Cullen, who didn’t hesitate to charge forward, stopping at the doorway as he was washed in a lime-green glow. Fade energy.

Before him, pulsing and hissing and wheezing, was a Fade rift. 

It spit magic and energy and, most importantly, power. 

Then, it spit a Demon, and Cullen didn’t have time to wax poetic any further about the thing he saw. He followed his first instinct, barreling into the thing, sending it and himself topping to the ground.

He might have been staring it in the eyes, if it had any. Instead, he had to settle for staring into the gnarled mess that was its head before it sprung to its feet, knocking Cullen back several feet, head hitting the floorboard on the far side of the room. That really fucking hurt. Scrambling to his feet, Cullen just barely dodged a ray of Fade energy, from which sprung-- something.

“A shade!” Dorian yelled from the doorway, evidently having picked up on Cullen’s confusion. “Demons, the both of them!” He shouted, just in time to send a cage of lightning down around the two of them. They seized as bolts struck them, keeping them from moving, and Cullen came to his feet.

“I want to go back to bed.” He said, shifting his weight briefly from foot to foot before charging blindly into the cage, hoping the lightning wouldn’t hit him, and grabbing the shade, running his blade right through its chest. Then up, through its head. With a sputter and hiss, it dissolved back into the rift.

Then the cage collapsed, and Cullen was face-to-face with the demon.

It was then that he realized just how useless his jacket was, without the proper armor to accompany it. Quickly, he sidestepped just in time to dodge one of its swipes. A roar, and Cullen felt the fear in his bones. And then he told it no, not today.

This is not how Cullen Rutherford dies, bitch.

He lunged, swinging his sword in an arc that would have devastated the thing if it hadn’t simply tore open the ground that it stood on, sucking itself into the earth and leaving Cullen entirely off-balance. He fell down, and his sword skittered across the floor. Landing with a roll and returning to a kneel, Cullen steadied himself in time to see the demon re-emerge from the ground beneath Dorian, pouncing him and pinning him down. Cullen scrambled for his sword, grabbing it. Then the demon made a mad dash for the door.

And then it burst into flames, having activated a glyph on the floor. Cullen sheathed his sword, running to Dorian and helping him up. “Report!” He said, locking eyes with Dorian.

“Wha-” 

Dorian didn’t finish his sentence, as the rift hissed again, spitting out one final demon. “What the hell is that?” Cullen asked, hand already around the grip of his sword. 

“A fear demon.” Dorian said, casting a barrier around them.

“And how do I kill it?”

The hesitation in Dorian’s breath was all Cullen needed. This wasn’t going to be easy. He turned back to the Demon, and it roared. 

Schwing.

Sword, drawn.

He ran up to it, slashing upwards, but it simply floated out of the way. Cullen then realized the disadvantage he was at. Slash, dodge. Slash, slash. Dodge. Dodge.

Then, a Lyrium-induced moment of clarity. Cullen went to one of the corners of the room. Jump. Step. Step. Leap. 

Downwards slash.

If reality had matched the fantasy, the demon would have split in half, just like the dummy when Iron Bull had slashed downwards. But it didn’t. The sword went through the demon, and Cullen landed, rolling roughly and hearing the demon scream. 

It had been something.

Then the thing was on him, screaming in his face this deafening sound.

 

And then, it wasn’t. It was thrown back, frozen solid mid-air. Not questioning it, Cullen scrambled to his feet, running up to it and hitting it with his sword again and again, cracks spreading until it shattered. It was gone.

Then, he realized he was screaming.

 

“What the hell are you doing in here?”

Dorian and Cullen both looked at the source of the voice-- the President, decked out in what Cullen distantly recognized as battlemage armor, magic still dancing on her staff, rage evident in her expression.

“We heard you had a bit of a pest problem.” Dorian said, obviously trying to use his coolness to wrestle some shred of control over the situation.

“Yes, and it seems we still do.” She said, holstering her staff. Dorian followed suit, and Cullen sheathed his sword. 

“What was that?” Cullen asked, ignoring the banter and urging them to get to the point. 

“What is it.” The President said.

“I’m sorry?”

“What is it. It still is.” She said, raising her hand calmly, green light exploding from her palm and connecting with the rift. In a single, practiced motion, it was closed, and the room was dark. “Now it isn’t anymore.”

Then, magelight filled the space, dancing around them, throwing shadows. Cullen didn’t like it, not one bit. “With all due respect, that didn’t sound like an answer.”

“Because it wasn’t.” She replied. 

Unmoving. Dorian piped in. “Then make it one.” He said. “The least you can do is give us an answer.”

“No, the least I can do is not expel you for trespassing on restricted grounds. The others will have a fit…” She sighed. “You, mage.”

“Dorian.”

“Yes, you know what that was.” She said.

“I know what I think it is.” Dorian countered. “A Fade rift, but--”

“Exactly.” The President pursed her lips. “I must ask you to keep this a secret.”

“There goes my plan to get it tattooed on my forehead.” 

A glare from the President was all it took to shut Dorian up. “This rift opened up in the late spring semester of last year. We managed to keep it under wraps. We wanted to research it, see what we could learn from it. The Vice President tried to tell me it was a bad idea to expand dorms to the battlements. Of course, I ignored him--” She stopped herself. “We lost a great research opportunity, but saved two students. I suppose not all is lost, then.” 

“Then that was a door to the Fade?” Cullen asked, still trying to understand exactly what he’d gotten himself into.

“Yes, good. You’re following well. I knew there was a reason we made room for you.”

Was that--- sarcasm? 

The President continued. “Demons are not, and never have been, a problem on this campus. And I do not intend for them to be. As long as we keep this between us, they won’t be. I suppose I should thank you for eliminating this danger from our campus, though.”

Cullen held up a silencing hand. “Miss, uh--”

“Lavellan.”

“Miss Lavellan, are you telling me we won’t be punished for this?”

“Yes.” She replied plainly. “As long as you don’t tell a soul, then I can hardly get angry at you for doing what you thought best. Now, go to bed. You must be exhausted.”

Come to mention it, he was. A yawn.

Dorian mirrored the action and began walking out the door.

Cullen was a few feet out the door before he turned to face the President Lavellan. “M’am?” He said.

“Yes, boy?”

“What would have happened to the rift if Dorian and I hadn’t done anything about it?”

A laugh. “Guess we’ll never know now, will we?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AU where i stop using doors flying open for an introduction to literally every single character


	8. Chapter 8

The first person Cullen told was Iron Bull.

He had managed to go a few days, including the beginning of syllabus week, without telling a single soul about the incident in the tower. Dorian had done the same. However, whenever the two of them alone, they’d carry on in hushed whispers about the interaction with the elusive Principal, the demons, the rift, the power-- it brought them closer. They were friends, the Tevinter mage and the Fereldan Templar. There was humor in that.

Regardless, it was inevitable that one of them would let it slip. And it was Cullen this time, having just done a line of Lyrium and gone for a training session with Iron Bull, who made the mistake.

Bull had just finished bragging about a story where he and Krem singlehandedly took out an entire band of criminals with just one sword and a keg of beer. He finished the story, and Cullen and him dissolved into laughter.

“I never thanked you, Bull.”

“Oh? What for?”

“That slash you did a few days ago, over the head and straight down, through all the organs. It came in handy.”

“Do tell.” Bull said, “I love to hear how great my techniques are for making things die.”

A chuckle. Cullen opened his mouth before realizing that he was verbally cornered. He could lie, of course, but he had no doubt that Bull would be able to smell a lie from a mile away. So he sighed. “You can’t tell anyone.”

“What, did you do it in your tightie-whities or something? Just spit it out, Rutherford.”

Fine. 

 

After recounting the evening in full, including the appearance of the President, Cullen felt an utter fool, and rightfully so. Bull simply stared at Cullen in complete silence, obviously processing what he’d just been told.

“So you’re telling me--” He stopped. “And--- The President----” A pause. “You fucking jumped a demon? You’re a legend in the making, Cullen!” Roaring laughter.

Did he not understand the gravity of the situation? How many more rifts could there be, hidden on the campus, waiting to be found? How many of the students slept every night, not knowing the danger they were in?

Were the rifts the reason that the campus allowed open carry?

Cullen laughed too. “Should’ve seen the way it shattered when I bashed it. It was exhilarating.” 

“Always is,” The Bull conceded. “I’m gonna be honest. When I asked you to come out to practice with me, I didn’t think it would end like this. I’m not complaining, though.”

Of course not. The brute practically thrived off of violence. “Then you won’t tell a soul?”

“Not a one. Not if this is as serious as you say.”

“Thanks, Bull.” Dorian rose to his feet and sheathed his sword.

As he walked away, Bull called after him, saying, “Hey, if you happen to run into any demons that need bashing, get in touch with me. I’m awfully good at bashing things!”

Cullen tucked his hands into his jacket pockets and kept walking.

 

“I think the most troubling part of this whole affair is how few answers we got from the President.” Dorian said, leaning against a shelf as he spoke with Cullen. “I mean, I understand that she’s got that whole ‘mysterious Dalish’ thing going for her, but why can’t she drop the act and shoot straight with us?”

“What, you think she’s keeping something from us?” Cullen asked.

“I know she is.” 

“Like what?”

“Well, if I knew, then she wouldn’t be doing a very good job of keeping it from us, now would she?”

A very valid point. “Why would she have left something out?”

“To protect herself, maybe. To keep us from poking around in the elbows and armpits of the school, looking for more rifts.”

“So you think there are more?”

“If not on the campus, definitely within these mountains. That kind of powerful magic… it doesn’t exist in a vacuum, Cullen. Either the President knows of more rifts and isn’t telling us, or doesn’t, and is simply ignorant to the danger present.”

“What can we do about it?”

“Right now, not a whole lot. President’s got a choke-hold on us with that threat to kick us out.” He said, “So we’ll have to go behind her back, which is unfortunate, because she could make herself an invaluable ally. This means, of course, we’ll have to make up for that.”

“Slow down.” Cullen said, pinching the bridge of his nose. “You’re saying we spend our time at this school…. Hunting demons?”

“Not all of it,” Dorian said, “Just enough to make sure that no more hissing interrupts my beauty sleep. Not that I need it.”

“Right.”

“Are you with me on this?”

“Do I have a choice?”

“Again, no.”

Cullen smiled. “Well then, now  I feel less bad about telling someone what happened.”

“You told someone?” Dorian asked, tone a lot less harsh than Cullen had anticipated.

“Yes. Iron Bull, a Qunari.”

“I know of him. Continue.”

“I told him. He seemed… amused by it. Told me that if we ever went up against a demon, he wanted to help take it down.”

“You accepted the offer, right?”

“I…. didn’t respond.” Cullen replied bashfully, rubbing the back of his neck.

“Can’t blame you. You didn’t know you’d be doing this, did you?” A sigh. “Well, we’ve got at least that going for us. Looks good. Who else do you know, Cullen? Surely you’ve wooed more than just The Bull with your wiles?”

“I-- maybe? I’ve got few friends here. Josephine and Leliana might be able to help.”

“Who?”

“Josephine and Leliana. Josephine’s part of the school newspaper, and Leliana…. Well, I’m sure she does something on campus other than brood.”

“Is that sass I’m detecting, Cullen?”

“Maybe you’re rubbing off on me.”

Dorian paused. “I suddenly have a sinking feeling that I might not be the best person to coordinate this. Neither will you be, tragically.” 

Cullen pretended not to be hurt by the remark. “Who will be, then?”

“I think it’s time someone tells you that you ask entirely too many difficult questions.” Dorian said drumming his fingers on the spine of the book he’d been reading. “I’m not sure. You’ve stumped me, Cullen. Good going.”

“I’ll-- are you sure this is a good idea?”

“Hmmm?”

“All of this? Isn’t it a bit… much? We were never in danger until we opened that door.”

“I suppose.”

“If we just…. Leave all the other doors closed, can’t we stop this before it starts?”

“Yes.”

“Then why should we put all this work in?”

“Because,” Dorian said, voice a feigned whisper. “It’ll be fun.”

Cullen couldn’t argue with that. “I’ll speak with Leliana.”

 

He spoke with Josephine first.

Well, he went back to his dorm first. The Lyrium from that morning was already wearing off, and there was no way in hell Cullen would go about organizing some secret society without being at peak performance. So, he went to his bathroom, closing the door and locking with with a click, taking out the box and one of the vials.

The familiar glow made him warm.

Again, Cullen opened it, pouring it into his palm.

Then, he hesitated.

Cullen could tell that he was getting bad again. The Lyrium high… it was addictive, and he knew it was in full swing. He closed his eyes, still feeling the warmth ins his ears from the power of the Lyrium. Then, he looked back down at the Lyrium in his hand.

Say no, Cullen. You have to say no.

His fist closed around the Lyrium, clenching. Nails digging into flesh, undoubtedly marking crescent dents into his palm. He didn’t need Lyrium to be strong. He was strong already.

With a shaking hand, he returned the Lyrium to the vial, closing it in the box and hiding it again. 

No wars were ever won with weak wills.

 

“Are you sure about this, Cullen?” Josephine asked softly, pen twirling frantically between her fingers. “Leliana can be… difficult to work with.”

“Can you do me this favor, Jo? As a friend?” 

A pause. “Very well.”

After a deep breath, Josephine moved aside from the door she’d been stopping Cullen from getting into. For the past ten minutes, they’d been hissing back and forth about how terrible of an idea it was for Cullen to try to speak with Leliana alone when they hadn’t quite established a friendship. Cullen argued that he wouldn’t reach out to her without it being an emergency, but when Josephine pushed for details on what exactly this emergency was, Cullen had made an (admittedly unworthy) comment about not wanting his problems plastered all over the front page of the school newspaper.

He’d knew that wounded her.

Regardless, the door was no longer blocked, so Cullen opened it with visible hesitation, sticking in first his head, and then entering fully. The room was…. Beyond impressive. Located off the main hall in the castle structure, it had ceilings that soared to the same heights as the ballroom. The floor was faded, cracked, but nevertheless ornate. The room held great power, and with Leliana perched on a massive table made of what had once been a tree, sifting through some papers, it held secrets.

“Leliana-”

“Hello, Cullen.” She said with no obvious glance up from the papers. Her tone was cool, controlled. Cullen envied it.

“I have to ask you a favor.”

“Oh?” Leliana asked, looking up from the papers and putting them in a neat stack. “What could you ask of me?”

“You told me you… knew things.” 

“I know people, yes.”

“I need your help.”

“Oh?”

“Yes. I… you won’t believe me.”

“I might.”

“The other night, Dorian and I found a Fade rift in one of the south towers of the school.” Cullen paused, checking to see Leliana’s reaction. Deadpan. Very well. “The President told us that there might be more in the mountains, and even on campus.” No shock betrayed her expression. “Dorian and I-- well, Dorian, mostly-- thinks we should…. Assemble some kind of group. Or find someone to, at least, assemble a group to, ah,” God, he was regretting not taking that Lyrium more and more. Coming off after a couple days’ high was always the worst. “To make sure the campus is safe.”

“A noble undertaking, Cullen.” She said. 

How could someone who said and did so little, maintain so much control in a conversation. “Can you help?”

“I know someone who can.” Before Cullen could speak again, she added, “I want to be a part of this. There are no secrets on this campus, not from me. Your little club cannot be allowed as an exception. In return for your hospitality, I will tell you all I can about this school.”

Very aware that this was an order and not a request, Cullen nodded. “What’s her name?” 

“Cassandra Pentaghast. She is a graduate student. You might have seen her already, at the sparring grounds.”

Maybe. Cullen was smart enough not to say anything.

“She’s got her own thoughts about Skyhold and its administration. If you can stomach her first impressions, you can find her an invaluable ally.”

“Thank you, Leliana.”

“Thank Josephine.”

“That I will. One more thing, Leliana?”

“Yes?”

“What’s this room? How come no one ever uses it?”

Leliana smiled. “The old trophy room. No one’s supposed to use it.”

And yet she did. Cullen liked her nerve.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i think my favorite part of this entire story is cullen going around and recruiting everyone, and then putting cassandra in charge of recruitment. 
> 
> sigh


	9. Chapter 9

Cassandra had an odd beauty to her. 

 

At least, she did once Cullen had tracked her down.

 

It was just his luck that, the one day he needed to speak with Cassandra, she was nowhere to be found. Not the sparring grounds, nor the library, nor the dining hall. What other nooks and crannies could possibly be on the campus? It was certainly no help that the first licks of withdrawal were kicking in, leaving Cullen tired and irritated at everyone and everything. 

He finally tracked Cassandra down on one of the ramparts. She was reading a book, undoubtedly enjoying the privacy and the breeze. She jumped when Cullen’s footsteps drew nearer, closing her book and looking at him with furrowed brows.

“Can I help you?”

“Yes.” Cullen answered, stopping a few paces away from her. His hands fell to the pommel of his sword.

She mirrored the gesture. “How?”

“You know what?” Cullen asked, “Let’s go inside. I think we’ll both want to be sitting down for this.”

 

They sat in a secluded corner of the dining hall, heads bowed over a small table. Cullen was sipping some coffee, hoping the caffeine would offset the oncoming headache and fatigue, and Cassandra drank water. Probably because, unlike Cullen, she didn’t have a crippling addiction. C’est la vie. 

“This is going to be a lot to swallow, Cassandra--”

“What’s your name?”

“Cullen. Cullen Rutherford.”

“Cassandra Pentaghast.”

Cullen didn’t want to point out that he’d already known her name, mostly because she looked like she could piledrive him with one arm. She just had that kind of… powerful aura. He took a sip of his coffee. “The south tower of the ramparts. You know how it is under construction?”

“Very irresponsibly, yes.”

“Well, Dorian and I went in there. It wasn’t under construction. It was hiding a… a Fade rift. Demons were pouring out of it.”

Cassandra’s hand flew to her sword. “Why aren’t you there now? There is no doubt that they’re multiplying a we speak--”

“Cassandra!” Cullen said, voice a hiss. “It’s closed.”

“You… closed it?”

“Well, I didn’t. Neither did Dorian. The Principal did.”

“What?”

“She can close rifts.”

Cassandra sat down slowly, eyebrows furrowed once more, glaring at Cullen as if he were the demons he’d fought. “So there is still a problem.”

“Unfortunately.” Cullen took another sip of his coffee. “Dorian and I have reason to believe that there are more. Out there, I mean. In the mountains, and maybe even a few on campus.”

“Where?”

“I don’t know. But don’t worry, Cassandra. They don’t seem to release demons until you’re close to them.”

“Now that is perfectly useless information. If we don’t know where they are, how do we know whether we are close enough to them to set them off or not?”

A good point. “An even better reason to join this cause. Can I count on you, Cassandra?”

She finished her cup of water. “This kind of danger cannot go unchecked, Cullen.”

He decided to take that as a yes. “I know some other people who can help us.”

“What are their names?”

“Well, Dorian and I--”

“The others, I mean.”

“Josephine Montilyet, Leliana-- surely you must know of her, and a Qunari named Iron Bull.”

Cassandra pursed her lips. “You are right, I do know Leliana. I should not be surprised that she has her hands in this as well. Josephine… she is trustworthy. She’s cunning and smart, but you cannot tell her too much. As for this Iron Bull-- can he swing a sword?”

“Yes.”

“Then we will find use for him.” A sigh. “Cullen, do you know what you are getting us into?”

“Somewhat.”

“This is serious. We are playing not just against administration, but also the Fade itself. This will not be easy. Some people might die for this schoolboy curiosity of yours. Are you ready for that burden, Cullen?”

No. “Yes.”

“Are they?”

“I-- will make it known to them.”

“Very well. I will find us a center of operations. I will be in touch.”

With that, she stood, leaving her cup behind, and walked out of the dining hall.

 

The room never felt so large.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i am really trying to put commentary for every chapter but all i can say about this one is how short it is. why did i allow that


	10. Chapter 10

“You actually did it?” Dorian asked, taking a bite of a granola bar he’d snuck out of the dining hall. “You talked someone into it?”

“Yeah.” Cullen asked, voice muffled. He was face down at the moment, balancing an ice pack on his lower back. Twelve hours without Lyrium meant he could feel his injuries. And they were bad.

“Color me surprised. Who is he?”

“She.”

“She’s a girl?” Dorian asked. “I don’t think I’m surprised as I am relieved. Men have all that… you know, pent-up testosterone. Always have to be the heroes. Women don’t. Maybe that’s the reason they hold so many positions of power…”

“Her name is Cassandra. Pentaghast. I can’t speak for her ability to lead, but she accepted the position. She told me she would look for somewhere for us all to speak with one another. A center of operations.”

“That’s a bit dramatic.” Dorian said.

“And?”

“Oh, don’t worry. I like it. I’ve been told I have a flair for the dramatic.”

He’d been told correctly. After all, he was the one who’d convinced Cullen this was all worth the effort. “Are you sure about this, Dorian?”

“No. Are you?”

“No.”

“Good, then we agree on that. Puts us in quite an odd position, though. We’ve already got people working make this happen. Might as well shit if we’re on the pot, right?”

Sure.

Cullen could feel his first withdrawal-induced headache coming on. He’d been smart enough to skip dinner, lying to Dorian and telling him that he’d eaten with Cassandra. Now his stomach was growling, but it was better than being nauseous. Better than making a fool of himself, letting them know how weak he was.

“Makes you glad they allowed us to bring our weapons on campus, doesn’t it?” Dorian mused, throwing the wrapper in the trash beside his bed. “This whole affair, I mean. Makes you pretty happy, doesn’t it?”

“It is convenient.” Cullen conceded as he sat up, ignoring how his back screamed in protest, and propped himself up against the headboard. “Dorian, Cassandra told me something when we were meeting. It troubled me.”

“Oh, besides the demons?”

Cullen chuckled. “Yeah. She said.... She said we might die doing this.”

Dorian was silent. 

“She asked me if I was ready to be responsible for all of your deaths, if that were to be the case.” More silence. “I told her I was.”   
“That’s fortunate.” Dorian joked, but there was little mirth in his tone.   
“Dorian, are you ready to die for this?”

“No. But that won’t be a problem, as I am far too good at fighting and magic to run any real risks. Do me a favor, Cullen, dear, and drop the dramaticism. You’re a soldier, and I’m a well-trained mage. We have nothing to fear.”

Other than Cullen’s inevitable collapse into Lyrium madness, if he were to keep going as he was. He could almost feel it calling to him from the bathroom, begging for him. Just… just a little, to wean off the pain. To help him sleep better. To--

The door on Cullen’s side of the room flew open, bringing with it a cold breeze and an angry, blonde elf.

“I’ve heard what you’ve been up to, and I can’t help but say I’m a bit offended you lot’ve been leaving me out of it.”

“What?” Cullen asked, sitting up straight, wincing.

“What, thought you two could start some super secret military and just keep me in the dark?” The unmistakable accent made Cullen want to scream. 

Sera. “Super secret military?” Dorian asked.

“Let’s skip the pleasantries, boys. I know about your secret society, bloody demons and all. And I want in.”

“Sera-”

“Point isn’t up to debate. I’ve got friends in the right places to know every step you’re taking, before you even have your shoes on your feet. What I’m thinkin’ is that I could swoop in, skewer a few of those Fade-loving pieces of shit back to wherever the piss they came, and in return, I won’t tell every authority in Ferelden that you’re meddelin’ with powers too big for your small, small brains.”

“Very well.” Dorian said with a sigh. “Since you don’t present us with an option, I guess I can only welcome you. You do realize that this--”

“It’s a secret, right? All hush-hush, no shouting from the rooftops. Got it.”

“Well, yes. But it’s also dangerous.”

“The only thing more dangerous than killin’ demons, is lettin’ the big folks in charge keep the demons on our campus a secret, and lettin’ them try to pick off the small people.”

“Small people? Like, dwarves?” Cullen asked.  
“No, you oaf.” Sera giggled, “Like you. Or me. You know, the little people. The gears in their machine. Keep us dumb and keep us quiet, they think. I think not. So I’m gonna keep them from thinkin’ they can keep us from thinkin’. Nip it in the bud and whatnot.”

Dorian and Cullen made eye contact, mutually confused by the entire situation. “Ah, right.” Cullen finally said. “Are you going to leave, then?”

“Right.” She quipped, looking between the two of them. “I’d hate to keep you two distracted, wouldn’t I? Very well. See you ‘round boys. Let me know when you intend to host your first little meeting. I’ll bring snacks.”

And like that, she was gone.

“That…. Really just happened, didn’t it?” Cullen asked.

“I really can’t say what is stronger: my hatred for her attitude, or my admiration for her determination.”

Both sounded good. “I’m…. I’m going to bed. Goodnight, Dorian.”

 

Cullen barely slept that night. How could he? He was in well over his head, playing with forces he was nowhere near qualified to understand. The cravings for Lyrium were getting stronger, too. Every breath felt like his ribs were about to break in. Every movement was quicksand. At this point, he wasn’t sure what would kill him faster: the Lyrium, or the withdrawals.

“Get up.”

If the voice didn’t wake him, being shoved out of his bed certainly did. Landing with a thud and a groan, Cullen turned to look at who was responsible for interrupting his sleep.

Cassandra. “Who… why does Dorian keep letting people in here?” He grumbled, sitting up and leaning against the wall by his bed. “What do you want?”

“You.”

“Like… now?”

“No- not like that, you idiot. I need you to accompany me. We have work to do.”

“What time is it?”

“Nine.”

“Give me a couple more hours--” Cullen groaned, grasping for his sheets, only for Cassandra to yank them away.

“You can sleep when the demons are gone.”

God, he shouldn’t have told her about the demons. What other things would she guilt trip him into doing to keep the demons at bay? He slowly got on his feet, at least relieved to find that the pain in his back was gone. “Let me get dressed.”

“Don’t bother. I have something a bit more suitable.”

“What?”

“I… got in touch with someone who was willing to lend me more formidable clothes. The kind you’ll actually survive against a demon in.”

He needed his Lyrium fix, but it was fairly obvious that such wasn’t an option. “Coffee-”

Cassandra held out a thermos. “Drink it as we walk, we have a lot of work to see to.”

Wasn’t appointing a leader supposed to mean he wouldn’t have to do as much work? Nevertheless, Cullen took a sip of the hot, black coffee and followed Cassandra out the door, down the steps that led to the battlements, across the courtyard (which felt more like a football field in terms of size, courtesy of Cullen’s exhaustion) and into the dining hall. Then, back down the familiar corridor. They stopped outside the room where Cullen had spoken with Leliana the previous day.

“This-- this is where we will meet?” Cullen asked.

“For the time being, it will have to do. Students don’t come into this room often, and the space is generous enough to permit storage of… unsavory things. Unless you could suggest a better place.”

He couldn’t, so he didn’t.

Cassandra opened the doors, and the rom inside filled with light.

It seemed that while Cullen was sleeping and pitying himself, Cassandra had set to work fixing up the room. The branches that had once blocked light from coming in the windows were cut down, letting the sun shine through stained glass and bespeckle the floor with an array of gorgeous colors. The table, now clearly the cross-section of a tree, was host to a blown-up, detailed map of Skyhold and the surrounding mountains. Remnants of the effort-- empty mugs, dirty plates, trash bags filled with Maker-knows-what-- were testament to a night’s worth of effort.

Already standing at the table were Leliana and Josephine. Cassandra joined them, and Cullen stepped to the table’s side.

Suddenly, he was hit with the weight of exactly what he was doing. 

“Are you sure about this?”

“No, but I’m committed.” Cassandra replied.

“As am I.” Josephine added.

“Me too.”

Well, they certainly had a lot of work to do.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i don't really use the footnote function in google docs (which is where i do all my writing btw, been burned too many times by hard drive failures and software crashes) but i remember when i put football in the body, i put a footnote reading, "As in American football. The right football. The football that George Washington invented when he drank a bald eagle’s blood at the first ever inaugural address."
> 
> god bless america


	11. Chapter 11

“How’s it fit?” Cassandra asked, hands on her hips.

The armor was heavy. Better than what he was made to wear as a Templar, but also unwieldy. It carried an air of power power that Cullen wasn’t so sure he could live up to. The entire day, as the four of them had worked together to formalize their little club, Cullen had felt more and more neurotic. How could they be certain no students would barge in and see what they were planning? How dangerous would these demons really be? Could a couple (admittedly adult) college students really take on a supernatural threat? Why did this armor make Cullen look so fat?

“Calm down.” 

It was Dorian, walking through the front door and frowning. 

“Seriously, Cullen, you look like you might bust an artery. You remember what I said about your face, right? Don’t spoil it.”

Forcing himself to relax externally, Cullen allowed Dorian to examine what he was wearing. 

It was a comfortable fusion between contemporary and classical. The outfit had the look of a knight, and the materials of a front-lines soldier. A thick chestpiece with some insignia that resembled a lion adorned cullen’s chest. Durable body armor covered the rest of his body. On his shins, thighs, and arms, plates of thick material, not unlike kevlar, added extra defense to the outfit. It was silver and black, red tubing running the length of it-- not a bad look, but it reminded Cullen all too much of battle. He felt like a killer in it.

For once, it was a good thing. “What do you think?” Cullen finally asked, tired of how silence in the room choked him.

“You have a fantastic ass.”

Cullen might have laughed, if not for the headache and the soreness. “Practically, I mean.”

“Oh. It’s a lot safer than a combat jacket and jeans.” Dorian said. “Please tell me you have one for me, too. Ideally, one that compliments my features just as well.”

“We’re working on it.” Cassandra replied. “I take it this is Dorian?”

“The one and only.” He replied, smiling. “And you must be the lovely ladies who have come to our aid in this time of need.”

Josephine giggled. “We are glad to help you, really. Skyhold is precious to everyone, and the dangers of losing it… well, it’ll be a safer place once we finish, yes?”

“I hope.” Cullen said, suddenly feeling very uncomfortable in the armor. “I-- don’t have to wear this all the time, right?”

Cassandra sighed. “No. Though I do suggest you dress more… defensibly. I cannot attest as to what forces you have upset. We have upset, I mean.”

“So we’re a club now?” Dorian asked, perching on the table, brushing some trash to the side. “All of us, some kind of demon killing squad?”

“Hunters.” Leliana said, having watched most of the conversation in silence. “We’re hunting them. Going to where they hide and killing them. We’re demon hunters.”

“Ah.” Dorian said, obviously put off by her tone. “So, where do we start?”

“First, I get out of this outfit.”

 

By the time Cullen was back in his civilian clothes, the other four had gathered around the table. It was empowering, the sight of them. It made Cullen confident, powerful. Not quite the same power that Lyrium gave him, but pretty damn close.

Lyrium. Suddenly, his shirt was a bit too tight for his liking. 

Clearing his throat, Cullen stepped up to the table, between Dorian and Cassandra. “Last night, someone expressed very… passionate interest in joining our cause.” Cullen said, one hand on his pommel, the other on the table. “Sera.”

“The elf.” Leliana said. “I know her. She’s not unlike me. She has…. Sources. Though she is more amicable with them. She’s valuable, but she can also be a wild card. She said she wanted to work with us? So she knew. No one told her?”

A smattering of  “no”s danced around the table.

“And, I feel like I should clarify,” Dorian said, “That she didn’t say she wanted to work with us. She picked the lock on one of the doors to Cullen and I’s room, kicked it open, and told us she was working with us. There wasn’t much left to debate. She’s already with us, whether we like it or not. In fact, I’m sure she’ll berate Cullen and I for convening without her next time she decides to swoop in on us.”

“On the good side, that gives us even more information than before.” Leliana said. “On the bad side, we’ll have to put up with Sera.”

Rolling laughter. “My hands are tragically tied right now.” Josephine finally said, “My resources as a journalist are historical and academic. I could get us into restricted parts of the library to research, but that’s about it. I apologize.”

“Don’t.” Dorian said, “I could use that. Think you could slip me the key? I could get some work done tonight. I don’t have class tomorrow, so staying up late won’t bother me.”

Josephine smiled. “Sure. And Cassandra--”

“I’ve got outfitting under control. Tell me what you need, and what I can’t find in the storage, I’ll salvage or get made.”

“Good.” Cullen said, feeling a strange sense of pride for them. “And Cassandra, you said you’d speak to that Iron Bull.”

“I did.” She replied. “He’s crass, but he can hold his weight in a fight. He didn’t seem to mind the demonic aspect. Said something about how all faces are the same once they’ve been smashed with a hammer.”

“Good.” Cullen said. “And he said he wouldn’t tell a soul?”

“Of course.” Cassandra confirmed.

“Then… then where do we go from here?”

Silence came over the room.

Looked like that’d need a little work. “Then let’s call it a day, yeah? I have to get to class. Thank you all. Thank you.. So much.”

Cassandra’s words echoed. Was Dorian ready for them to die for him? Was Cullen ready to die for them? How could Cullen value his life in such a way… how could he die for a cause that might not have existed if he and Dorian hadn’t been so explorative that night? They left the room one by one, until Cullen was alone with Dorian.

 

“Now that the Demon Brigade’s gone, shoot straight with me. How terrified are you?”

Cullen looked up from the map he had been staring at. “More than I care to admit.”

A nod, and Dorian moved to Cullen’s side. “If it’s any consolation-- and I’ll be honest, I’m not sure what weight my admittedly velvety words might carry in such dire straits-- there’s no one I’d rather be stuck hunting demons with than you.”

“Thank you, Dorian.”

“Much obliged, Commander.”

“Commander?”

“Thought it was cute. Fits the role, you know. How you run about adding little nobodies to this cause, dressing like a fool, brooding all the time.”

“I don’t… brood.”

“Oh yes you do, like a man with a secret.” Dorian said. “But don’t worry, it adds to your image.”

“What’s my image?”

“Come now, I can’t spend all my time flattering you. There’d be no dealing with you.”

Cullen smiled, and Dorian left.

He was alone.

 

The day passed in a haze. Cullen’s class-- some course on ancient Orlesian history-- was boring. Everything was. Disinterest, apathy, withdrawal. Mind you, he took plenty of notes. He dutifully scribbled everything down, leaving some reminder of that class to a much more competent Cullen. When he finished in class, he hung back for a bit, doing the right thing and introducing himself to the professor.

“Hello, Ms--”

“Please, dear, call me Vivienne. Titles are so bulky, they take away from the beauty of a nice name.”

“Vivienne. I just wanted to introduce myself.”

“Very responsible of you, young man. Though I hope you aren’t expecting any favor to fall on you for it, I commend your responsibility.”

“Of course. I’m undeclared right now, but your class is part of my core credits. I just thought I’d introduce myself, so if I ever need your help, I won’t be just another face in the lecture hall.”

“Oh, aren’t you just adorable?” Vivienne chided. “Thank you, darling.”

“You’re… welcome.” Cullen said. “You’re a mage, right?”

“More than that, but yes. A mage. Why must you ask?”

“Oh-- nothing. I’m not sure.” Cullen stammered, taking a half-step away from her, rubbing the back of his neck. “It’s just interesting, I suppose. Thank you for your time.”

“Of course.” Vivienne said warmly. “Not many of my students take the time to introduce themselves. Have a lovely day, dear.” 

Cullen nodded, turning out of the room and finding himself back on the courtyard. The mountain air always found a way to bring Cullen to his senses, like a gentle punch in the face to make someone stop daydreaming. Inappropriate, but effective. Cullen sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. The withdrawals had mercifully faded for the time being, meaning Cullen felt simply lucid. He couldn’t decide if it was better or worse that way. He never could.

It was late afternoon, and the castle was unusually quiet. Students still scurried from building to building, heads ducked down over books and swords clanging against holsters, but the campus had that singular feeling, that class was in session. For a moment, Cullen considered joining Dorian in the library. Had he really been there since they departed? If so, maybe it would be best to bring the hardworking mage something to eat. And drink. 

Dorian could take care of himself. 

Cullen climbed up the rampart stairs to his room, dropping his books on his bed and taking off his sword. It was time for a walk, one without any violent implications. A walk to think, to breathe, to--

The Lyrium called to Cullen, whose hand was on the door. He was leaving. All he had to do was take three steps. He was going for a walk, not a fight. He could-- he could make it, right? Yanking the door open more violently than he intended, Cullen slammed it behind him and nearly sprinted down the rampart stairs, putting as much distance between himself and the Lyrium as possible.

And, of course, running headfirst into Leliana.

What was she doing outside? Like, at all? She seemed much more content locked up in their secret room, or lurking inside the rampart walls. It felt strange seeing her outside, hood down, hair blowing gently in the mountain breeze.

“Let’s go for a walk.” She said softly, turning and beginning to walk without waiting for Cullen to agree.

He fell into step beside her, hands shoved in his jacket pocket. “What’s this about?”

“Look at the ramparts.” Leliana said. “From the outside, you would never think they contain contemporary classrooms.”

It seemed that she had already decided how this conversation was going to go.

“Skyhold is a sacred place.” Leliana continued, turning and leading Cullen out the front gates and towards the bridge. “It’s always been a home of such great and terrible power. Kings and queens have fought for power in these halls. These same halls we hold homecoming court in. It is almost a mockery, Cullen.” She said as they stepped onto the bridge, which suddenly felt much bigger and much longer than it had the first time Cullen had crossed it. “This history has been lost to the ages. Buried under the pride of the President and her company.”

“What are you trying to say?” Cullen asked, eyes tracing the outlines of the jagged mountain peaks, which were blanketed with snow for as far as he could see.

“I believe that these rifts are older than anyone is willing to admit to us. We are playing with ancient powers. Great, ancient powers.” She said, stopping once they reached the halfway point of the bridge and walking towards the edge, looking over the side of it. “Powers that might be beyond the understanding of anyone in this school, even your prodigious friend.”

Dorian.

“I’m not suggesting we stop our work to purge the area of this evil.” Leliana clarified, “I’m providing you with a warning. You are the leader of our forces, Cullen. Your are at the head of the charge to save us from a threat we do not know or understand. You should know the true magnitude of this fight.”

“Thank you.”

“I am not finished.” She leaned against the side, looking down at the treacherous fall. “Cullen, you still take Lyrium.”

A statement, not a question. Cullen bothered not to say anything, his hands clenching into fists, mostly to conceal how they shook.

“Another great and terrible power. You are addicted, are you not? An unfortunate fallout of relying it in Templar service, no doubt.”

“How do you know this?” Cullen asked, tone more cutting than he intended.

“I know many things.” She countered vaguely. “You need to decide, Cullen. Decide whether you are strong enough to overcome it, or if you will let yourself be consumed by its strength.”

“I--”

“Cullen, do not try to give me excuses,” She said, standing up straight and locking eyes with him. “Know that whatever pain you bring yourself, is not felt only by you. I know you may not see it, but in the past week, some of your peers have come to care for you quite a bit. Hurting yourself hurts them, too. I cannot tell you what decisions to make with your life, Cullen. Just know that the strength of human nature cannot be emulated by any drug.”

“Is that all?” Cullen asked, having grown a bit annoyed with Leliana’s cryptic waxing poetic. 

“Yes.” She said, walking away and leaving Cullen alone on the bridge.

Distantly, he thought about throwing himself over the side. Not really because he wanted to die, but there was something liberating in the concept of falling. Letting go of everything and just letting gravity take control-- then he was hit with vertigo. Cullen would have fallen right to the ground if not for the fact that he had been leaning on the wall. It took most of his weight as he dry-heaved over the side, suddenly overcome with withdrawals.

This was the human nature that Leliana was talking about? The thing that was so strong, it threatened to tear Cullen apart from the inside out? He pulled away from the wall, stumbling as he came to carry his weight on his own two feet. It was humiliating, how quickly Cullen came undone. At the drop of a hat, he turned inside out and fell apart. How cruel! 

The walk back to the courtyard was much slower than the walk away from it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is like the first chapter i wrote where i really started to empathize w cullen. idk, leliana is a lot smarter than anyone recognizes, and she's very much a spiritual guide to cullen in this story
> 
> anyway keep going, i'm sure u wanna see cullen smooch dorian


	12. Chapter 12

“Any progress?”

After the talk with Leliana, Cullen had collapsed in his dorm, falling asleep on his unmade bed for a few hours before he was roused by the typical mixture of hunger and nausea. He’d managed to down a couple bites of chicken before the tightness in his throat became too much. Fortunately, at least, Cullen had managed to keep what few bites he’d managed own, and he left the dining hall to go to the library, part of the south tower of the castle. From one of the windows, Cullen could see both his dorm and the rampart tower that had started the whole mess. Scaling the first flight of stairs, he found himself in the small but impressive campus library.

Dorian was sitting on the floor, surrounded by piles of ancient-looking tomes opened to varying pages, held open by pens and rocks and one even propped to its place by one of his feet. In front of him was a pad of paper with indecipherable scribbles on them, likely written in Tevene. A plate that had been eaten clean sat beside Dorian, likely a dinner brought to him by Josephine or Cassandra. He was entirely in his own space, and Cullen had been hesitant to interrupt. 

And yet, he did.

Dorian didn’t look up from the book he was immersed in, grumbling something that was probably meant to sound like words. 

Taking a seat in the low chair beside Dorian’s current workspace, Cullen admired the mage’s hard work. He sat in silence for a few minutes, watching as Dorian flipped from page to page, book to book, scribbling constantly new notes in his journal. As it filled up, he became further immersed in it. It was almost as if Cullen was watching Dorian get sucked into a rift of his own.

It was adorable.

Finally, after what felt like twenty minutes, Dorian finally clicked his pen once and looked up at Cullen, leaning back against a bookshelf. “Yes.”

“Huh?”

“Yes, I have made progress.”

Cullen leaned forward in the chair. “What’ve you found?”

“Very little.” Dorian replied, picking up his journal and turning through the pages. “Most of these books Josephine gave me are little more than histories or biographies. You can glean some information from them but it’s just more bloody rabbit holes.” He said, frowning. “If these authors were good at anything, it was putting their readers to sleep, and keeping Skyhold’s secrets locked away.”

“Well, what did you find? Anything useful at all?”

“Depends on your definition of useful.” Dorian retorted. “I managed to make a list of consistently… shifty places throughout the castle and surrounding mountains.”

“Shifty?”

“You know, places there were left out of some books, an anecdote in others, and so on and so on. I suppose I could attribute it to authorial laziness, but when a book that detailed just about every bowel movement of each minor royalty whose regal ass touched the throne leaves out the existence of a prison under the castle, that’s… more than a mere oversight.”

“A conspiracy, then?”

“Doubtful. Censorship, I think. I wouldn’t be surprised if biographers stumbled upon the same things we did however many years ago, and were paid to remain quiet about it. But there was one of these books… an unauthorized biography of the third royal family to own Skyhold. It was the only one to even suggest any kind of arcane forces at work in the walls of Skyhold. It was also written by an infamous drunkard and hack, so I can’t speak for the accuracy of it.”

“What did it say about the rifts?” Cullen asked. He ran his hand through his hair. He was-- sweating? But it was so cold. Subtly wiping his hand on his pants, he listened to Dorian’s answer.

“There fortunately aren’t many left in the walls of Skyhold. I have reason to believe there’s one in the prison, though getting in there will prove… well, it’d be easier to get Leliana to do stand-up. As for the surrounding mountains, that’s where things get foggy. Whoever built the roads through this area managed to keep them away from any legitimate foresting, meaning there could be any number of rifts in there.”

“Wait, slow down.” Another headache was threatening Cullen’s patience. He needed to focus, no matter how hard it would be. “How much of a threat do you think these forest rifts are to Skyhold residents?”

“I couldn’t say. Information on the rifts simply doesn’t exist because, for most of written history, neither have they.” Dorian replied. “Cullen, you look like you’re going to be sick. Please, if you are, don’t do it all over my hard work.”

“No- it’s fine.” Cullen insisted, moving so that he was sitting on the floor, a small pile of books between him and Dorian. “Let me help.”

“With all due respect, Cullen, this information is well beyond your intellectual reach. It’s vexing, even to me.” 

The world was slowly spinning. Cullen needed a distraction, an anchor, something real. He picked up one of the thinner books, opening it to the first page. 

 

A BIOGRAPHICAL ACCORD 

OF

THE AFFAIRS

OF

KING JOSEF XXVI

OF

LONGMIRE

 

“Who is… King Josef of Longmire?”

Dorian laughed. “That was in my trash pile. He was a madman who claimed the Skyhold throne for all of three weeks before someone with real power came in and picked him off.”

“Oh.” Cullen said, turning to the second page and carefully picking over the words. They seemed to swim, letters changing form, colors fading one into another. His hands were clammy, his entire body in an unmistakable cold sweat.

“Cullen-”

“I’m fine.” He insisted, turning to the second page of the book, despite having finished the first sentence. Hoping Dorian wouldn’t worry. If the Lyrium killed him, so be it. No one needed to share in Cullen’s suffering, not even his friend.

“Fine. Touchy.” Dorian muttered, turning the page in a book that was considerably more impressive than the one Cullen held, and scribbling another note. 

 

A healthy hour and a half passed in silence, Cullen absentmindedly turning pages as he skimmed sentences, seeing what words he could pick up. Seeing which words were real, and which ones seemed to dance beyond the barriers of his comprehension. The world swam around him, but the book was grounding. Dorian was grounding, butting in with little quips and mutters every few minutes.

The sun set, and the library lights dimmed. 

“We should---”

“Shh, Cullen. I know. Just a few more minutes.” 

Another half hour, and they’d shifted positions. Cullen was next to Dorian in the half-circle of books, their shoulders touching as they leaned against the shelves together. The nausea has faded, and while every light in the room was still entirely too bright for his tastes, the idle chat between the two of them when Dorian picked up a new book or Cullen finished a chapter brought a strange sense of peace to the room.

Cullen finished the biography, and moved to set it down, when he realized that Dorian had fallen asleep. His head had fallen back against the shelf, mouth hanging slightly ajar, chest rising and falling slowly. How long had he been out? Closing his book, Cullen briefly considered carrying Dorian back to their dorm. The moment he stood up, however, his head began spinning, so he just nudged Dorian gently with his toe. 

“C’mon.” He said, “Let’s go.”

Dorian groaned, eyes fluttering open, as he picked up his book. “No, juss-- a few more minutes.” He muttered, continuing to read as if he hadn’t been asleep at all. “Dorian-”

“I’m almost done.” He insisted, turning a page.

Needless to say, they both ended up falling asleep in the library.

 

Cullen awoke with a start, the bright sun finally breaking through the cloud cover and washing him in unwelcome brightness. Dorian was still out cold, using a leather-bound book as a pillow. And another one as a foot-rest. Rising to his feet, Cullen stretched. His stomach growled viciously. Shit, what was the last full meal he’d eaten? Groaning, he rubbed his eyes. The withdrawals were kind that morning. His head felt like it was on fire, but things had been worse. And he was sure they would get worse. 

“Dorian.” He grumbled, squatting and picking up an open book, putting it in a random stack. “Let’s go.”

A soft sigh from Dorian, who set up, looked at Cullen, and groaned. “What time is it?”

“Noon.” Cullen replied. A guess, but since the sun seemed to be right overhead, it was his best guess. “Come on, let’s go.”

The sight of Dorian with messy hair was… unprecedented. Cullen stifled a laugh.

Dorian rose to his feet, glancing at Cullen, then out the window. “Food.” He muttered, stepping over a lower stack of books. 

Agreed. The two of them made their way out of the library, down the stairs and into the dining hall. To their great fortune, it seemed that there was already a considerable crowd eating, meaning that their entrance was almost entirely missed. At a far table, Josephine, Leliana, and Cassandra were sitting in a huddle, chatting civilly.

“Should we--”

“Yuh.” Dorian muttered, and they walked to where the trio sat, alighting on either sides of the table.

“Cullen! Dorian! You two look… tired.” Josephine said, tone going from excited to confused. “You spent your night in the library, I presume?”

“Mmhm.” Dorian said, folding his arms and resting his head on the table. “Eggs.”

Cassandra picked up a forkful of eggs and held them up to Dorian’s mouth, and he took them all, swallowing after a few moments of silent chewing. “Did you find anything of use?” She asked.

“Well, we got an idea of how much we don’t know.” Cullen answered, “Take that as you will.”

“Any news on rifts?” Josephine asked before taking a sip of orange juice.

“I can’t speak for Dorian, but… Dorian isn’t in much shape to speak for himself right now, either. Ah, we suspect there’s one in the old prison below the castle.”

“There’s a prison below the castle?” Cassandra asked. “That’s… new.”

“I always suspected there was.” Leliana said, jumping into their conversation. “Every castle was build standard with one. I suppose that this is just a confirmation of my suspicions.”

Right. Cullen took a bite of a biscuit , then made a sleep-deprived attempt to swallow the thing whole. Somehow, it worked. It had to be the first time in a week he’d eaten something without feeling nauseous. He picked up another, but was interrupted in his enjoyment by Josephine.

“I can see to finding a way in. However, getting access to a place that doesn’t officially exist may be more challenging than we are willing to admit.” She picked up her pen, scribbling a note on her arm. “Do we know where the entrance is?’

“Nah.” Dorian grumbled, picking a grape off of Leliana’s plate and popping it in his mouth. 

“Leliana?” Cullen asked, looking at her hopefully.

“I cannot promise much. I’ll see if I can get help from a groundskeeper who knows the lay of the land, but even they likely aren’t allowed to know the castle’s secrets.” She replied. “This information has been buried quite well. It might be beyond my reach.”   
“Perhaps we could ask Sera for help.” Cassandra suggested. “She must know something Leliana doesn’t.” This statement garnered Cassandra a pointed look from Leliana, but she did not protest.

“I’ll speak with her.” Cullen replied. “Dorian?”

“Mmhm?”

“How much longer ‘till you’re awake?”

“Gimme an hour.” He mumbled, reaching for a cup of water by Josephine’s plate and taking a long gulp of it. “Beauty sleep.”

Cullen finished the second biscuit, picking up an apple from a centerpiece and nodding at Cassandra. “Have you found anyone worth looking into?”

“Somewhat.” Cassandra responded, “With recruitment, we walk a fine line between keeping our secret and telling the wrong person. For now, I think our safest bet is to stick with who we have.”

A sense of relief washed over Cullen. While less people meant more work among the lot of them, it also meant less weight to carry. Less possible deaths. Less burden on Cullen’s shoulder. He bit into the apple, chewing in silence. “So once we find this prison-- assuming it exists, that is-- what do we do?”

“I believe that decision is your responsibility.” Josephine answered with a smirk.

Of course it was. He was their leader, after all. Dorian’s nickname-- Commander-- suddenly felt too real. He bit his lip. “We crack it open and see what’s inside. Dorian and I will bring help this time.”

“Hmmm.” Still half-unconscious, Dorian’s grumble was the closest Cullen would be getting to a yes. So he accepted it, taking another bite of the apple.

“Maybe you should speak with our new friends.” Josephine said as she tapped her pen on the table. “Wouldn’t help to let them know what they’re getting themselves into, yes?”

“Of course.” He replied and rose to his feet. “To work?”

“Naturally.” Cassandra replied.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> first of all, can i just say i relate to sleepy dorian on a spiritual level. like, girl, me the heck too
> 
> also, the second and last time i used footnotes in this book was when i used "biscuit" and made a footnote reading, "The delicious, American kind. The buttery and flaky one that people who love themselves eat. Not the hockey pucks that British people communally pretend to enjoy." 
> 
> god bless america x2


	13. Chapter 13

Finding Sera proved more challenging than Cullen had previously anticipated. She seemed to be everywhere but where she needed to be. Not in the pub, any of the dorms, the ramparts, nor the castle. At least, not the parts she was supposed to be in. Cullen have given up, sitting on the steps that led up to the castle’s main entrance, when none other than Sera alighted beside him, taking a seat and saying,

“Heard you were lookin’ for me.”

Cullen couldn’t help but laugh. At himself. At his situation. At the fact that, barely a week into university, he had already gotten his hands into some kind of irreversible mess. At Sera and her inability to be anything short of infuriating. At everything. “Yes. I was.” He replied. 

“Oh, what for? Got demons that need punchin’?”

“Actually, I might. I need your help, Sera.”

“Knew you would. Called it, didn’t I? I did. Whaddaya need?”

“You’ve got connections, right?”

“Well, depends what kind. I’m not a spy or nothin, just got friends who know things. And they got friends who know things, and by ourselves we don’t know a whole lot, but all together we’re pretty smart.”

“Then do you know someone who could get us into a closed off part of the school?”

“Well, probably. Depends. If it’s a wall, I probably can’t kick it down, but if you’re tryin’ to break into the President’s office to steal her knickers or somethin’, I might be able to help.”

“Neither. There’s a… there’s a prison on campus.”

“I’m listenin.”

“And I need to get in. If you could help me get in, there’s a high possibility there would be plenty of demons to shoot in the face.”

Sera nodded, pondering the thought for the moment. “You make a temptin’ offer, Cullen.”

“So you can do it?” 

“If it’s got a door, I can get in. If not… well, I might have to get a bit more creative. Anyway, it’s about time we start doin somethin’ about those shits. I mean, I only just found out about them, but it’s already been too long. You know? Too much of a bad thing is a very bad thing, or whatever.”

Cullen zoned out as she continued speaking, going on and on about something he couldn’t bring himself to worry about. Well, maybe he could. However, all he could think about at the moment was how easily he and Dorian had been overcome by that first rift. Surely, having Sera and Iron Bull on their side would help, but how much longer could they go until they, too, burned out? Neurosis began to nag at Cullen as he finally came to his feet.

“I wasn’t finished, you know.”

“I do.”

“Oh, whatever. I’ll see what I can do about this door. To a prison, yeah? That should be fun. All sorts of handcuffs and mess in there. See you around, Cullen!” She said, bouncing off into the castle, undoubtedly to make someone else’s ears bleed with her constant nattering.

She was an asset to their cause, but dear Andraste, at what cost?

 

Bull was much easier to find than Sera was. Cullen found him training, as he always was, swinging a hammer that had no business being so large into a dummy that, somehow, seemed to be taking the beating fairly well. 

“Bull!” He called, stopping a foot away from the Qunari. 

In response to the call, Bull set down the hammer, head first, into the ground, leaning against the pommel and smiling. “Hey, blondie. You found something for me to smack in the face yet?”

“Actually, I might have.”

“Good. Straw dummies get tired after a bit. They don’t have the same crunch and squish as a real target.”

Ignoring how morbid the comment was, Cullen moved forward with the conversation. “There might be a… demonic presence on the campus.”

“Where? Give me a target and I’ll swing.”

“Don’t be too hasty. It also might not be on the campus at all.”

“What do you mean?” Bull asked, picking up the mallet and holstering it on his back.

“Well, I could explain it to you. Or I could have you take it on faith that if we do end up finding the demons, I will let you know, and be sure you’re the first to hit them in the face.”

“Sounds fair. All those details… it’s exhausting. Will that be all, then, chief?” Bull asked, arms crossed. 

Chief. God. “Yeah, I guess. Thanks for your help, Bull.”

“No thanks needed. If anything, this is a favor to me.”

Cullen smiled. It was nice to know that some things weren’t as complicated as they needed to be.

 

The next few days passed by in a strange melancholy. Between hushed mealtime meetings and careful rendezvous in their meeting space, the seven of them managed to sort out the location (and existence) of the Skyhold prison. Dorian dug up a map that documented a prison under the castle, whose entryway could be found conveniently on the outside of the castle. However, when Sera had picked the lock, it turned out that the entrance only led to a small utility room. For the next day or so, they backtracked. Josephine worked desperately to try and gain access to new archives, new records, but came up dry. They’d hit the bottom of the barrel. Cullen spent entire nights, deprived of the Lyrium-fueled drive he usually relied on, with Dorian, planning. Reading and re-reading notes. They fell asleep everywhere: the library, study rooms, lecture halls, and pretty much everywhere else on campus but their beds. It wasn’t until a full six days after their plan was hatched, that they finally gained access to the dungeon.

It came in form of word from Iron Bull.

“Cullen.” The voice called to the man in question, who had been walking to a study group with some other students in his college algebra course. He turned on his heel, recognizing the accent instantly.

“Bull. What’s up?”

“I’ve got good news. That dungeon you’ve been looking for?”

“Prison. Go on.”

“I found it.”

Immediately, Cullen’s heart skipped a beat. “You’re kidding.”

“Nope. Turns out that we had access to it the whole time, boss.”

“Show me the way. Actually,” he said, “Let’s go get the others.”

And so they did.

 

Josephine and Leliana decided to hold a post outside the door to the prison. If any professors or administrators happened to come their way, they’d make a distraction, and hopefully cover the rest of the team long enough to finish the job. Inside the room that had been thought to be a maintenance room, a massive gash in the back wall marked where the architecture went on. Further. Beyond the pristine, modern mechanics of the room lay an entire prison. The metal of the doors was covered in rot and erosion. The floor, ancient brick entirely, was rotted, chipped, overgrown with moss and grass. Most terrifying of all was the familiar, eerie green glow of the room. A rift.

Cullen walked in first, shirting at the edge of the room in hopes of not disturbing anything. Not until they were ready Dorian was next, moving so he stood beside Cullen. Iron Bull and Sera filed in afterwards.

“Holy pissballs.” Sera hissed, pulling an arrow from her quiver and notching it. “That’s what we’re up against? Can’t ya just destroy it, no?”

“No.” Cullen replied. “We destroy what comes out of it. According to what Dorian’s found, it… temporarily stabilizes it. Neutralizes it.”

Bull drew his mallet. “Let’s get to neutralizing, then.”

Without cue or inhibition, he charged towards the rift, which didn’t hesitate to spew out a volley of demons. Cullen drew his sword, rolling away from a levitating torso. “Dorian! What are these?”

“Wraiths.” He replied as he spun his staff, sending fire flying at every one of them in sight. “They’re not strong, but they’re hard to hit. Be--”

“Hit one!” Bull said, mallet slamming a wraith into a cell door, denting the metal and causing it to disintegrate. 

“Be careful.” Dorian repeated. 

“I will!” Cullen replied, turning just in time to see Sera fly over his head, sending a volley of arrows to skewer three wraiths. They hissed, staggered, and continued their approach. Cullen charged at them, stepping with his left foot and turning on it, slashing horizontally, cutting across all the wraiths before stopping, facing away from them, and dropping to a push-up position. Sera took the cue and popped off three more shots. One of them fizzled and disappeared, and Cullen came to his feet, running from them. Bull took his shot, swinging his mallet over his head in one, powerful arc. It came down on one of the two remaining, killing it.

With one wraith left, Dorian took the charge. He swung his staff around his body, planting his feet, sending a volley of energy-- six different spheres-- launching at the wraith. It dissipated. “Everyone alright?”

“Never been better!” Bull said, grinning widely.

Sera said nothing, notching another arrow and crouching.

“There’ll be more.” Cullen said, wiping his sword on his thigh. “Prepare yourself.”

On cue, five more demons came bounding out of the rift. 

First, a greater terror. Cullen remembered it from the first night, with Dorian. They locked eyes, shared terror, turned back to see what else came to kill them. Two shades sprung from the ground, and never in Cullen’s life did he think he would ever be relieved to see one. However, it was better than the fear demon they’d had to face down that first night. The memory of its screech-- Cullen suddenly felt very cold and very alone. He adjusted his grip on his sword, just in time to be knocked on his face.

He tasted blood.

The weight on him was crushing-- Cullen could feel the strain in every bone in his chest. “Help!” He shouted, desperately trying to push up.

And then, the weight was gone. Although his body screamed to stand still, Cullen quickly rolled away, scrambling to his feet. Then he saw what had been on him. A demon, not like any that he had seen in his research with Dorian. “Dorian, wha--” He was slammed again to the ground, this time face-up. 

Not again.

Shifting his weight to his shoulders, Cullen brought up his hips, planting his feet square in the center of the terror demon, kicking it off and sending it flying. It fell back, and he picked up his sword, not bothering to stand, pinning the beast down with one knee, holding up his sword and digging the blade into its throat. A hiss. Again. Hiss. Clang. Hiss. Clang. Hiss. Clang. Hiss. Clang. Fizzle. 

It was gone. Cullen could feel his heart in his chest. His brain shouted, up.  _ Up.  _

_ On your feet, boy.  _

_ No soldier ever won a battle on his knees.  _

_ Now, boy, hold your sword like a man.  _

_ Like a Templar. _

_ Make the sword an extension of your arm. _

_ Hit the enemy where they are weakest. Their chest, their groin.  _

_ Battle is dirty, so don’t bother playing clean. _

_ Keep striking until they stop moving. The once more for good measure. _

_ Cullen, boy, pick up your head. _

_ Keep striking. _

_ Keep striking. _

_ Keep--- _

“CULLEN!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this was the first chapter that actually got like. hella fuckin long. the last few chapters are like this


	14. Chapter 14

It was Dorian’s voice that brought him back, yanking Cullen from the unreality of his past, cruelly through years of battle and misadventure.

“Cullen, stop! It’s gone!”

He looked around, disoriented. The room was still bathed in the green glow of the rift, but it was weaker this time. Duller. He felt very, very weak. LIke every bit of his body was a thousand pounds. 

“Get up.”

Dorian put an arm around Cullen’s waist, pulling him to his feet.

“You look like you just went to war, Cullen.”

Was it that bad? Numbly, he felt his own face. A cut, running from right below his ear, down his throat, stopping just before the collar of his shirt. 

“Pick up your sword. Come on.”

Cullen couldn’t move. Just stare at Dorian’s face. At what was real. “We stopped it.” He said, numbly. His voice didn’t feel like his own. It felt like someone else’s voice. Someone stronger. Braver. “We… they’re dead.”

“Yes. They are. Now pick up your sword so we can get out of here.”

He looked at his sword. It was covered in scrapes, the cutting edges chipped. In the green light, it almost looked mystical. Slowly, as if wading through a bog, Cullen reached down, picking up the sword and sheathing it. He looked back to Dorian. “You’re safe.” Then at Sera and Bull, who looked banged-up, but stood on their feet. “You’re all safe.”

“Define safe!” Sera said, speaking for the first time since the battle started. “Those things been crawlin’ around the sewers of this school, have they? You really took your time, didn’t you? They coulda killed us!” She sheathed her bow, walking up to Cullen, getting in his face. “You didn’t tell me they were so dangerous, piece of shit demons tried to tear off every bit of me!”

“Sera.” Bull’s voice stopped her, putting a hand on her shoulder. “They’re gone.”

And that was when they all turned and looked at the rift. How it pulsed, a life weakened, but not gone. 

Then, Cullen hugged Dorian. Tight. So tight that he was sure Dorian’s ribs hurt as much as his own. When he was done, he pulled Sera and Bull into a group hug, squeezing them tight. But he wasn’t happy. He was grim. His jaw clenched. They were real. They had to be real. He had to make sure they were real.

This  **_had_ ** to be real.

“Let’s get out of here.”

“Cullen,” Josephine’s voice broke through the haze, “You might want to--”

“What is going on here?”

The President. Cullen let go of Bull and Sera, breathing through his teeth, wiping the blood from his face. “Good afternoon.” He said, taking a staggering step forward.

“What-- and you!” She said, looking at Dorian. “Again, with the rifts!”

The President repeated the action from before, closing the rift with a flash. 

“Holy shit.” Bull said, slack-jawed. 

“What did I say about keeping out of this?” She asked, walking up to Cullen. “You’ve cost us another---”

“Wait.” Sera said, interrupting the President unceremoniously. “You knew about this? About all the fade business and the demon whoozie-whatsits, and the glowing holes in the sky? And you didn’t tell anybody? What’s your damage, lady?”

“With all due respect--” 

“With all due respect, madame President,” Dorian interrupted, stepping forward, standing beside Cullen, looking directly into the President’s eyes, “you’ve put the student body at this institution in considerable danger. We took it upon ourselves to do what you couldn’t be bothered to, and killed the demons that might have broken out and killed us. So, unless you were going to end that sentence with, ‘thank you for your service and for killing the Fade beasts that live in my school’, I think you owe us an apology.”

The President frowned. “This is-”

“This is us doing what’s best for this school. Not its reputation, or its history. Its students. Now how about you take that sour look off your face, turn your pointed ears around, and leave us in peace so that we can tend to our friend Cullen here,” Dorian said, pausing to gesture at the man in question, “before he passes out from the wounds inflicted by a problem that you allowed to fester for the past thirty-odd years.”

A pause. And then, the President turned her pointy ears around and left them in peace. “Holy shit.” Cullen said, looking at Dorian, then at Josephine and Leliana, who both ran up to the four of them. 

“I’m sorry, Cullen.” Josephine said, “I tried to warn you-”

Don’t worry.” Cullen said. “Just… help me with this cut, will you?”

He hobbled forward into her arms, and they carefully made their way back to Cullen’s dorm.

 

Cullen collapsed on his bed, squirming out of his shirt and breathing deeply. “Why didn’t we bring that armor?” He asked to Leliana, who was presently going through a makeshift first-aid kit. “You know, the--” he coughed. No blood. His lungs were fine. “The one that actually worked?”

“Oversight.” Leliana said briefly, looking at Cullen’s cut for a moment before turning her gaze back to the kit.

“I can’t believe I told off the President.” Dorian said, sitting on the edge of his bed, staring off into space. “I told off the President.”

“That was fuckin’ amazing!” Sera said, shrugging off her quiver and sitting next to Dorian. “Granted, coulda’ done without the flashy demons an’ the space-hole, but, you know, win some and lose some. Say, Cullen, nasty-lookin cut. And face.”

Cullen couldn’t even imagine what his face must have looked like. The cut was on the left side of his throat, but pain caused the entire half of his face to sting. He had no doubt that his face was bruised. He just sighed, wincing when Josephine added pressure to the once-white towel that she was pressing to his neck. “Thanks.” He managed.

“I’m just waiting to see what she does next.” Bull replied. “She’s got to be plotting something. Maybe she’ll expel us.”

Dorian paled, Bull laughed. 

Leliana approached Cullen, kneeling beside the bed and gently pushing

Josephine’s hand away. “The cut isn’t deep.” She said, wiping it off with a cleansing wipe that made Cullen bite his bruised lip. “Just long. Head wounds bleed.” 

“Sera?” Bull said, leaning against the door, “How’d you learn to do that flip thing you do?”

“Flip thing?” She asked.

“You know, when you flew over Cullen’s head and shot all those wraiths at once. How did you do that?”

“Oh. I dunno. Kinda just…. Flip, and…. WHOOSH.” 

“That clears things up a lot. Thanks.”

Eliana pressed cotton to the wound, and Cullen saw stars.  “Shit.” He muttered, fingers clenching the sheets. Leliana carefully taped down the cotton and stood up, silently walking to the bathroom and washing her hands. While she was away, Cullen sat up and propped himself against the headboard of his bed. “We really just did that.”

“Yeah.” Dorian replied, and their eyes met. They were both exhausted.

“I think… I think that’s enough for today.” Cullen muttered, looking at Bull and Sera. “Thank you so much for your help. I…. don’t know what to do from here.”

Sera stood up. “Don’t have to tell me twice. Seeya ‘round, folks.”

Then she was gone. Bull wasn’t as kind. “So, what, we wait for the President to decide just how fucked all of us are for this?”

“What more can we do?” Cullen asked. 

“Well…” Bull shrugged. “A secret’s not a secret if everyone knows.”

Cullen’s eyes flitted to Josephine, who’d already pulled out her pen. Then to Dorian. “That’s… a lot. I think I’m gonna have to sit on that.”

“The longer we wait, the longer she has.” Bull countered. “I say you make a decision before you go to bed.” But he stood, and he left.

Then it was Cullen, Dorian, Josephine, and Leliana. Alone. In silence.

“We aren’t-- actually considering this, right?” Dorian asked, looking around helplessly. “I can’t be the only one who sees what a catastrophically terrible idea this is.” He paused. “Shit, I  **_am_ ** .”

Cullen looked at Josephine. “What do you think?”

“Publishing it would make it harder for the President to take any severe action. If she were to expel us, it’d make us look like martyrs. Then again, keeping us in school would make us heroes to the rest of them. I cannot think of a case where this would not work out in our favor.”

“Wait.” Leliana said, “Slow down. How could we be sure the President wouldn’t pull the papers before they were published?”

Josephine paused, biting the tip of her pen. “We go digital.”

“I’m sorry?”

“We… we go digital. Post it on Twitter, or YouTube. The internet is a wild west of sorts, she would have no control over the content there.”

Dorian groaned. “This is a horrible idea.”

“Why?” Cullen sat up, crossing the space between them and sitting beside him. “What’s stopping us?”

“Not us.” Dorian said, “ **_Me_ ** .” He looked at Cullen for a moment, face full of a wildly foreign air of fear, and then back at the wall. “I’m working towards my doctorate, but thanks to a scholarship from the university, I don’t have to pay tuition despite being a graduate student and having a master’s. If we make this a big deal… my scholarship will be the first thing to go. I don’t have a safety net. I can’t lose this opportunity. It’s my only chance… it’s my only chance out.”

Cullen was silenced by the uncharacteristic display of honesty and vulnerability. 

“Oh, Dorian…” Josephine said, eyebrows furrowing. “We won’t let them--”

“How will you stop them?” Dorian interrupted. “Twirl your pen and ask them how this makes them feel?”

Suddenly, the room was heavy. “We need to make a decision.” Cullen said, “Bull was right about one thing: we can’t let them use time against us.”

Cullen looked at Leliana. Leliana looked at Josephine. Josephine looked at Dorian. Dorian looked at nothing. “Someone has to make a decision.”

There was a knock at the door. All heads snapped in its direction. Cullen’s hand flew to the pommel of his sword. He lowered his voice. “Jo, Leliana. Bathroom. Now.” They were eager to comply, and Cullen recognized the click of the door locking. “Dorian--”

The mage stood. “You know who it is.”

“So do you.”

The President. They both walked to the door, opened it, and were greeted with a cold draft and a familiar face.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cullen is sufferin and i am sorry
> 
> it doesn't stop here


	15. Chapter 15

“Hello.”

Cullen didn’t respond, and Dorian had the brains not to, either. Instead, they stepped aside as the President walked in, arms behind her back. Cullen closed the door. “About earlier…”

“Don’t worry.” She said, “I get it. You two, and your friends, just wanted to do what you thought was best for the school.”

“What’s the catch?” Dorian asked, “I know that pointy ear comment got to you.”

“Only as much as a comment about your beauty mark could get to you.”

Cullen couldn’t be sure, but he could have sworn he heard Dorian gasp slightly and mutter, “No…”

“M’am. Why did you come here?”

“Well, I think we need to talk. You want to keep looking out for these rifts?”

“Yes.” Cullen said, hesitation clear in his tone. 

“Well, I can close them.” She said. “I say, we work together.”

“At what cost?” Dorian asked, hand behind his back. Ready to get his staff.

“Your silence.” She replied. “You tell no one else about them. You recruit no one new to your cause. No more shows of force like today. You answer to me, and me alone. No more sneaking around in the library after hours.”

Cullen looked at Dorian. “Can we… can Dorian and I talk about this?”

The President paused. “I don’t have all night.”

Dorian grabbed Cullen’s shoulder, turning him to face her. He hissed, “Cullen, this is our chance. My chance.”

“But-- Dorian,” Cullen whispered, “We won’t be able to get any help. How many more times can I be slapped against the concrete before I don’t get up again? I can’t die, and I can’t lose you. Any of you. We need the freedom to recruit--”

“What good will your cause be without me?” He retorted, “I’m the one who figured everything out. You just… moped around and passed out all the time.”

Cullen narrowed his eyes. He turned to the President. “If we say no... what will you do?”

The bathroom door flew open, and Leliana coolly stepped out, looking directly at the President, putting her arms behind her back. “What can she do? She could expel all of us. But-- she  **_can’t_ ** . In case you need to be reminded, madame President, not once in Skyhold’s history has a student been expelled. To expel not only one, but six students all at once? That would certainly raise some eyebrows. How long could you give vague answers until the truth came forth? Speaking of the truth- if you do not mind me continuing to speak, that is; once we were expelled, we would have even more freedom to publish the truth of this school and all of its dangerous secrets. Secrets, that you directly acted to keep. Who would be out of power then, madame President? Not us. See, the odds are stacked against you. So I have a proposition.

“We tell everyone about the rifts. Not only do we tell everyone about the rifts, but we also tell them about the history of people like you, people who tried to keep them a secret from us. You can take the stage, next, as the apologist for decades of deceit. You would become a symbol of honesty, and of a new beginning. And then,” Leliana said, holding her head high, “You would come with us, and help us close every single rift in the surrounding mountains. How does that sound, madame President?”

The lady looked from Leliana to Cullen and Dorian. “Looks like you have thought this over.”

“They haven’t.” Leliana said, “ _ I _ have.”

The President blushed, clearly frustrated, if not embarrassed. “I don’t know how I feel about working for students, but for now… for now you all are safe. Go to bed. You have class in the morning.”

As the President walked to the door, Cullen couldn’t help but call after her, “Actually, m’am, tomorrow’s Saturday.”

The door slammed shut.

“Holy… shit.” Cullen muttered, looking at Leliana. “How did you do that?”

“Do what?” She asked. 

“Show her up like that.”

“It’s part of the Game.” She replied with a smile. “You will learn about it soon enough. Now, Josephine,” She called back into the bathroom, “Get your pen clicking. We have an exposé to write.”

 

Josephine nearly sprinted out of the bathroom, taking a seat on the floor of the dorm and looking at Cullen. “You have a notebook, right?”

“Of course.”

“Let me see it.”

He held it out to Josephine, who opened up the notebook to the next clean page and clicked her pen. “So, let’s start at the beginning.” She said, speaking out loud as she began to write, “I met Cullen Rutherford on the first day of our Fall semester at Skyhold. I got to interview him---” She shook her head. “No. Too much of a profile.” After a frustrated scribble, Josephine restarted. “For centuries, Skyhold has passed from hand to hand. First a house for a wealthy noble, it was repossessed by royal family after royal family until falling out of use in the 1780s. It wasn’t until the castle was bought by the current President and remodeled that it came to function as it does today: an educational institution.”

So the evening continued. Dorian, Cullen, and Leliana sat on the floor, their backs propped against Cullen’s bed, as they watched Josephine go to work. Occasionally, she’d mutter, “No, no, that’s not right…” And scratch out  a word or line before continuing. About ten minutes into the affair, she stopped suddenly. “Cullen?” She asked, “Would you describe yourself as charismatic, or charming?”

C, none of the above. “How’s dogmatic?”

“No, I need a C word.”

“Why a C word?”

“It’s part of the cadence of the sentence. C makes the right sound.” She said, “Now which one?”

“How about, Cullen?” Dorian asked. “That’s a C word.”

“Calling him ‘Cullen Cullen’ is a little goofy.” Josephine countered. 

“Commander.” Leliana said. “He’s a Commander.”

And so the newspaper called him Cullen the Commander.

 

Josephine left eventually, and Leliana was soon to follow. 

Cullen and Dorian were alone.

“Thank you.” Cullen said, voice small.

“What for?”

“Keeping me rational. Thank you.”

Dorian smiled and put an arm around Cullen’s shoulders. “Remember what I said about your ego? Still applies. If you ended up being the hero of the day, there’d be no hearing the end of it. Now go to bed, you bruised bastard.”

But he didn’t. He stayed right there. And Dorian’s arm didn’t move.

“Cullen--” He breathed.

Their faces were so close together. Their bodies were so close. Cullen suddenly felt light-headed, and this time, he didn’t owe it to the withdrawals. “Goodnight, Dorian.” He replied, walking towards the bathroom. “Sleep well.”

“And I will.” The mage replied, standing up and shrugging off his shirt, climbing into bed as Cullen closed the door to the bathroom.

How long had it been since the last time he took Lyrium? It had to be well over two days, and he was doing fine. Well-- he was doing better than usual. The headaches came and went, and the injuries were always worse when he was sober, but there was something far, far more troubling that being without Lyrium brought.

The flashbacks. In another world, they might have thought of a name for what he suffered, but all he knew was that it was more than nightmares. Now his past haunted him in battle. Cullen had always known he would be haunted by his killing, but not that he’d be killing again. Granted, killing demons was fundamentally different from the work he’d done as a Templar, but killing was killing. He knew death when he saw it.

Cullen also knew that there was Lyrium in the bathroom. He knew that if he took it, not only would he feel less pain, but he wouldn’t feel so much fear. Carefully, he reached into his hiding place for his Lyrium. Pulling it out, he opened the box. The glowing phial was a mesmerising as it was dangerous. Unscrew the lid. 

No.

For the first time, Cullen felt himself say no. Not his brain, or his heart, but his entire body. It didn’t want the Lyrium. It didn’t need it. Maybe it was the testosterone or even the adrenaline speaking, but he knew he would survive the night without it. Probably painfully, and with nightmares to fill him with terror, but for the time being, he had a cause. He had a reason. He had a purpose. Cullen closed the case.

He knew it wouldn’t always be that easy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> aw, the thinks he's finally beaten lyrium
> 
> shame if something were to...
> 
> ... happen to him


	16. Chapter 16

“Look at that.” Bull said, holding his own copy of the school newspaper. “Right on the front page. Not a bad job, Josephine.”

She giggled in response.

Everyone-- Cullen, Dorian, Cassandra, Josephine, Leliana, Sera, and Iron Bull-- had met on the bridge. Normally, they would have met in the dining hall around ten to eat breakfast together, but they’d decided that the day that they debuted their big exposé on Skyhold’s secrets, it was best that they stay out of the way. So they met in the library instead. Dorian had led them up an outside staircase, so that they wouldn’t have to deal with being seen in the dining hall. The mage in question sat in the low chair, everyone else scattered about-- Sera sat on a window sill, Bull leaned against the only shelf strong enough to hold his weight, Josephine and Leliana sat cross-legged on the floor next to one another, and Cassandra simply still, arms crossed, looking at them all. 

Cullen was at Dorian’s feet. 

“And you did all of this without me?” Cassandra asked, disbelief rife in her tone.

“Well… yes.” Josephine replied, “Since you are just a coordinator--”

“I am not JUST anything, Josephine.”

“I apologize.” She said, “There’s nothing we can do about it now, especially since--”

“The newspaper.” Cassandra took Bull’s copy. “I’m well aware.”

Everyone was. This wasn’t just a campus phenomenon. It was trending everywhere. All social media was picking it up. All across Thedas, everyone was talking about what a couple of punk students did to save a university that didn’t even know that it was in danger. Cullen felt wonderful. He felt happy, not just because they’d won the fight, but he hadn’t yet been made known about the burden of death. Not of his friends.

They were his friends. Even Sera, in her strange, eccentric way.

“I just can’t fuckin’ believe you went up to the President like that!” Sera said, “That’s another point for the little people. No, that’s, like, thirty points for the little people! See how those big people feel, bein’ told what’s up.” She dissolved into snickers, the only person in the group really amused by what she’d said.

“I’m proud of you.” Cassandra sighed, “I wish I’d been there to see it. Cullen, your neck-”

“It’s fine.” He replied, fingers reaching to gently touch the bandage on his neck. Leliana had changed it earlier that morning, washing off the cut and claiming that it was healing quite well. The pain hadn’t subsided, but Cullen made due. He let his head fall back against the seat of the chair, shoulder brushing against Dorian’s leg. 

“We need to focus on what’s next.” Leliana stated.

“Well, plenty more rifts. Since the President’s on our side, we won’t have to spend days trying to find them, either.”

“That is assuming she has access to information that we don’t.” Dorian interjected, “And more importantly, whether she’ll actually share this information or not. While releasing this information worked wonderfully last night, we’ve played our only trump card. Now we have to sort things out civilly. It’s horrible, I know. I was enjoying the intrigue of watching Leliana verbally pants the President just as much as the rest of you.”

At this, she smiled. It was small, and it was humble, and it could have been missed if one didn’t watch closely, but Leliana smiled. So Cullen did, too. “How many more do you think are out there?”

“Considering how many there were on this campus alone, I think there must be quite a few.” Cassandra said.

“Oh, bollocks. More demons? I thought we were done! President’s been knocked down several pegs, We’ve told everyone how full of piss everyone runnin’ this place was, what more is there? You mean we’re just gonna go out and beat more of those Fade pieces of shit inta’ submission out of fear?” Sera rambled, “And we’re gonna be okay with that?”

“Yes.” Iron Bull said, “And if you keep pretending you didn’t enjoy that… flippy, whooshy thing you did, we will just not invite you along next time.”

Sera groaned. “The flipping and whooshing was….. Pretty fun.” She turned her gaze out the window.

“There is something working against us in this case, however.” Dorian said. He paused. “Besides what was working against us before. The mountains’ history hasn’t been as pored over as Skyhold’s. There could be three rifts, or there could be three dozen rifts. I certainly hope such is not the case, but we just don’t know. And, in all honesty, I don’t know how much good having the President on our side will do.”

“Dorian’s right.” Cassandra said, “We need to approach this like we did before. We can take a couple days to recoup-- especially you, Cullen-- but afterwards, we set back to work. Our work won’t get easier until it is over.” 

“Alright!” Bull shouted, “Now that’s a rallying call.” He said, voice full of mirth. “Now, if you don’t mind me asking, exactly how much longer do we have to hide out in here?”

“You can leave whenever you want.” Josephine said, looking up from her notepad. “Just know that I cannot speak for what people will say when they see you.”

“Besides, ‘wow, look at that handsome devil’?”

“Yes, besides that.”

“I can take it. Got thick skin.” Bull said, smirking and walking out. Cullen could hear his steps go down the stairs and out the door to the dining hall.

“I think he likes the attention, damn exhibitionist. Walks around all day without a shirt and flexes--”

“Anyway,” Josephine interrupted, “I think we should plan. You know, make concrete plans. Not just talk about planning to make plans, as fun as it is.”

“I agree.” Cassandra said.

“Back to the big room, then?” Sera asked, hopping down from the windowsill. “Glad we’ve decided to change which room we sit around and do nothin’ in.”

Cullen smirked and rose to his feet. Everyone else followed suit, and together, they descended the stairs and exited into the dining hall. It wasn’t particularly full, fortunately. Just a couple dozen students spread about, huddling together or on their own, doing whatever suited them best. The group actually managed to make it around a table and halfway across the middle aisle before someone said, 

“Hey! It’s the Commander!” Someone shouted.

“ **_NO SHIT_ ** !” Another voice called from across the dining hall.

This was when, with all the grace and poise of a dog that’d just had its tail stepped on, Cullen sprinted across the hall, through the first set of doors, then the second, and slid under the table in their meeting room, hiding behind the legs. He wasn’t the Commander. He was Cullen. There was no way in hell that he could be both.

Sera was the first to come in, nearly falling down when she saw Cullen under the table. “OH SHIT!” She shouted, “That is too much! The Commander, cowering under a table!” Falling to her hands and knees in laughter she said, “Dorian! Dorian, look at this!” 

He came in, only to look at Cullen. 

At least he tried to stifle the laugh

Grumbling something blasphemous, Cullen moved from under the table and crossed his arms. “You two having fun?”

Josephine and Leliana entered. “You two shoulda seen it!” Sera howled, getting on her feet for a second before completely collapsing again.

Cullen could feel himself blushing. 

“What, Commander?” Dorian asked, walking to his side, “Don’t like the crowds? Or is it wide, open spaces?”

“We have work to do.”

“Right.” Dorian quipped, “Why feel happy when we could, I don’t know, stare at the same map we’ve been burning into the back of our retinas for the past week. Great decision!”

Despite his joking, Dorian looked down at the map, arms crossed. A thumbtack had been stuck on skyhold, right on the southern tower. Cassandra approached the table, moving around Sera, who was still hyperventilating on the floor, and pulled another thumbtack from her pocket, setting it on the center of the castle. 

Did she really carry thumbtacks in her pocket? Or did she just bring that one for the occasion? Cullen chased the thought out of his head and leaned forward, bracing himself on the varnished wood. The map was large, but forested areas only covered about two-thirds of it. Maybe they’d be lucky, and there wouldn’t be any at all beyond the castle. He knew he made himself a fool to believe as much, but hope was always a better feeling than fear.

“Alright--”

It was then that everyone’s favorite aficionado for dramatic entrances, the President herself, came through the front doors, sidestepping Sera, and looking at the map on the table. “You’ll ruin the varnish that way.” She said, hands on her hips. 

Cullen could see Dorian biting back a witty comment. At least he had taken time to learn the invaluable skill of censorship. “Good morning, President.” He said with a gentle bow of his head. The formality felt strange, but he needed an air of civility, especially considering the events of the previous night.

“Good morning, Commander.” She said, looking down at the map. “Already back to work?”

“Not exactly.” Cullen responded, “Just figuring out our next steps. We won’t be entering combat for a couple more days. We need some time off.”

“Whose decision was that?”

“Cassandra’s.” He said, gesturing at the woman in question. “She’s the one who helped bring this together.”

“She wasn’t there last night.”

“I know.”

“Well, it’s nice to meet you, Cassandra.”

Cassandra nodded, approaching the table and standing beside the President. “We got this from the school archives.”

“Yes, I recognize the map. I assume, Miss Montilyet, that this is the reason you asked for access to them?”

Josephine nodded, coming also to the table’s side. “Yes m’am.”

“Quite a team you’ve put together, Cassandra.”

“The best.”

The President smiled. “Then let’s see what work is left to be done, yes?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> remember that thing i said about long chapters? doesnt apply 2 this one


	17. Chapter 17

By the time they’d left the room-- which they had ended up cleverly renaming, ‘The War Room’, the President had pointed out the locations of no less than six confirmed rifts, and regions where she suspected there to be more. Cullen’s greatest fear had come true: they weren’t done, they were nowhere near being done. Commander Rutherford had to lead his troops once more to their possible demise, and pretend that there was nothing at risk to begin with. He didn’t know if he could do that to any of them, but most of all, he wasn’t sure if he could do that to Dorian.

Dorian. His roommate. His best friend. The mage from Tevinter who was absolutely intolerable and had no personality beyond witty one-liners, but was absolutely worth every moment of Cullen’s time. Cullen couldn’t think of a friend in his life who he trusted as much, especially after knowing him for so little time. Sure, a week and a half was impressive to the right person, and it certainly was for Cullen, but in the cosmic eye, it was less than a blink. Rightly, then, the idea of putting Dorian in any direct danger was terrifying. It was more than terrifying, it made him sick. It made him crave that kick from Lyrium that made him careless, release his inhibitions, believe in the immortality of battle-- Dorian wasn’t easy to stomach.

It was no help that Cullen found himself taking Lyrium less and less. While his cut healed and responsibility of it shifted from Leliana’s capable hands to those of Dorian, he found himself being doted over by the Tevinter mage more and more often. And Cullen only wished that he could say it was a bad thing. A day turned to nearly a week, and by the end of their first month in school, the cut has healed to a small scar that would undoubtedly fade in the following years. Not like the one on his lip, which remained a deep valley in the topography of his face.

Even the President became a closer confidant of Cullen. Granted, he still kept her at an arm’s length, the reminder of exactly how much power she held in her hand-- both literally and figuratively-- keeping Cullen from trusting her entirely too much. He decided that it was a good thing. He, Leliana, and the President would often borrow the horses from the stables and scout out the areas they were unsure of, spending weekends traversing the woods and marking down the locations of rifts and putting them on the map in the War Room. Soon, they became a proper team, with a proper cause, and a proper force. 

And then, when they couldn’t put it off any longer, they decided to fight.

 

“We leave tomorrow at dawn.” Cullen said, meeting Cassandra’s eyes. “I’ll be taking Sera, Bull, and Dorian with me. The President will come as well, but will not serve a combat role. We’ll go down the mountain and leave the path… here.” He said, pointing to a specific bend in the road on the map. “From there, we travel north until we hit the rift. It’s in a clearing, which works to our advantage. As long as we keep our wits about us, we should be able to handle this fairly well.”

“Sweet.” Sera said, voice rife with sarcasm. “More wadin’ waist deep into Fade piss just to keep the peace, or whatever the hell you want to call this.”

“You don’t have to come, if you are going to complain like that the whole time.”

Sera stuck her tongue out at Dorian, who rolled his eyes.

“How long’s this going to take us, boss?” Bull asked.

“If everything goes as planned, we should be back by Sunday evening.”

“What can I do to help?” Cassandra asked, “Surely I can do something while I’m at the castle alone.”

Cullen could sense some negativity in her tone. “Research, if you like. We’re dreadfully short on information as to how Rifts get there to begin with.”

She nodded. “Anything to help.”

And then she left. The rest of the meeting wouldn’t concern her. As soon as the door closed, Cullen looked to the remaining few. Josephine and Leliana weren’t there, unfortunately attending a late Friday afternoon class that didn’t facilitate their attending the meeting.

They weren’t coming, so all was well. 

“I, for one, can’t wait to be in an atmosphere with actual substance. This thin mountain air has overstayed its welcome.” Dorian said, as if the mountain air would take offense and leave him. It, of course, didn’t, so a look of irritation came over him. 

“As long as none of those demons try an’ touch me, I think I’ll be quite alright.” Sera replied. 

Bull just chuckled. “Do you two ever run out of things to complain about?”

“When you’re this perfect, it’s only natural to be able to spot flaws so easily.”

“Then pessimism doesn’t count as a flaw?”   
“Oh, shut up.” Dorian huffed, crossing his arms. 

“Are you all ready for this fight?” Cullen asked. He was, of course, asking that question more to himself than everyone else in the room. While they all said yes, something inside of him oozed hesitation. And then nausea. Not withdrawals. Not then, in front of his friends, his team. They couldn’t see him like that. He quickly brought himself back to reality, or as close as he could get, and smiled. “Good. Enjoy your Friday night, and make sure your weapons and armor are in their best condition. If you need help, I’m sure Cassandra will gladly oblige.”

And then Bull and Sera left.

Again, Cullen was alone with Dorian. “You’re still scared shitless, aren’t you?”

“Unfortunately.” Cullen rubbed his hands over his face.

Over the past few weeks, the number of people running up to him and yelling about him being the Commander had decreased. Generally, the buzz about the rifts had died down, and Cullen was perfectly fine with it. A more healthy person might have been angry that no one had approached them to join the fight, but Cullen was far from healthy, and far from upset. A smaller task force meant less casualties, and less casualties meant less guilt.

Survivor’s guilt. 

Cullen knew it well. In his time on the field, he’d seen comrades die. He’d watched them die, bleeding out, the fire in their eyes fading until their bodies stopped moving-- it was horrific. The most painful, haunting part was that on more than one occasion, it’d been a direct or indirect result of his actions. 

A proper military force worked like a machine, every component moving in harmony to achieve a singular output: victory. When one cog stuck or faltered, the entire machine shuddered. Now, Cullen was manning that machine with little to no expertise on the matter, and couldn’t help but feel the lifeless stare of the entire universe on his back.

“You shouldn’t be.” Dorian replied, sitting on the edge of the table so that he could face Cullen. “You know everyone in this school believes in you, right? You’re Cullen, the Commander of… whatever in Andraste’s name we are. You’re the intelligent, brave war veteran who returned to the fight while pursuing his education. Cullen, you’re what they want to be. I hate to stoke your ego like this, but you really need to give yourself more credit. Being so grim doesn’t work for you.”

Sometimes, Dorian said the right thing.

And sometimes, he didn’t. “How can you tell me that, Dorian? It doesn’t matter how many people believe in me, I still might fail them. I still might end up with blood on my hands--  **_your_ ** blood on my hands, and spend the rest of my life trying to wash it off. I’m not a Commander, Dorian. I’m just trying to get this over so that we can live the lives we deserve.”

“You’re dreadful.” Dorian complained, putting a hand on Cullen’s. “But you’re my friend, so I’ve decided to put up with it for the time being. Listen to me. Cullen, look at me.”

He did.

“Do you think that any of us don’t know we might die doing this? Do you really think that we’re all so stupid as to believe that there’s no chance of us getting fatally injured doing this? Cullen, stop being such a martyr. We’re doing this because we care just as much as you do. Now,” Dorian said, sliding off the table and not looking away from Cullen “As thanks for my uncharacteristic patience and goodwill, I will accept thanks in form of a kiss to either cheek or my forehead.”

Instead, Cullen hugged him. Tight. Like before, in the prison, but this time, it was different. This time, he smiled when he hugged him, allowing it to last, savoring the feeling of holding Dorian. The idea that he could have someone, someone real, who could be so kind and forgiving to him-- Cullen pulled away.

“Don’t think this will work more than once.” Dorian said, “Now go, before I use my magic to lock you in here before you thank me properly.”

Cullen complied.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i kno what ur thinkin: 'how they gon kiss when they r fighiting. u got like four chapters, dylanbruced. clocks ticking'
> 
> i kno, reader.
> 
> i jus dont care


	18. Chapter 18

The morning was cold and unforgiving. It was the Fall, but it seemed that the weather was feeling more wintery, as all of Skyhold and its surrounding areas were blanketed in a thick blanket of what Dorian had referred to as “inconvenience dust”. The snow meant that any automotive transport that they had considered had been rendered null and void. In a moment of desperation, the four had decided that taking horses was the best option, as getting to their destination by foot would double the journey’s time, not to mention tire them out well before the combat actually started. The horses weren’t very pleased with the development, but since they couldn’t speak English, they didn’t have much say in the situation. By seven, the horses were tacked and mounted and Cullen, Sera, Dorian, and Iron Bull were on their way to the fade rift.

Most of the trip was in silence. Everyone was tired, and while they’d packed enough to keep them energized for well over the time they planned to be away, it became glaringly evident by the time they reached the base of the mountain that nobody had gotten the appropriate amount of sleep the previous night. They continued down the winding road, and by four in the afternoon, they’d come to the point where they would turn off into the forest.

“Here we are.” Cullen said, pulling out his map and glancing around for any distinguishing landmarks in the area. There weren’t any, so he decided that faith alone would have to suffice for the time being. He dismounted his horse, taking a few tentative steps into the woods and putting his hands on his hips. “I’m not sure if we’ll be able to get our horses very far. The foliage is pretty dense.”

“So, what?” Sera asked, “We leave ‘em here and hope they stay till we finish?”

“No.” Cullen replied. “We lead them until the woods get thin enough to ride them.”

“That’s rubbish.” She muttered, sliding off her horse and holding the reins. “It’s just a big, heavy dog then, innit?”

“Sure.”

He was too tired to argue.

They continued for the next couple of hours, alternating between walking and riding, until the floor of the woods slowly became illuminated with a familiar glow.

“We’re close.” Dorian said, and Cullen saw him clench his reins a little tighter. “Let’s find somewhere to set up camp, before the demons catch a trace of us.”

They retreated a bit, finding an area big enough to sleep in and pitching their tents. Dorian, not knowing a carabiner from a tankard, kindly sat and watched, reading the instruction manual aloud to a very confused Sera and Iron Bull. Cullen had volunteered to build the fire pit. Whether it was because he was the only one who knew how to build the fire pit, or because he wasn’t ready for any impromptu team building exercises, he wasn’t entirely sure. 

It was likely a combination of both. 

When they’d finally got the fire going, it was well past eight at night. The four of them gathered around the campfire, enjoying the radiated warmth in the desert of cool, until Sera finally spoke. 

“Who’s gonna do it?” She asked.

“What, pray tell, do you want one of us to do?” Dorian asked, evidently still exhausted from the day’s journey.

“Tell stories! I’n’t that what campfires is all about? Gatherin’ ‘round and listenin’ to everyone’s stories, pretendin’ to care even though you’re just waiting for your chance to top whatever happened in the last story?”

“You want us to… tell you stories.” Dorian said, “Shouldn’t you have your own share, Sera?”

“I guess I do. But I don’t wanna hear my own stories, I already know all of ‘em. I wanna hear one of yours. Ones I haven’t heard before.”

She raised a fair point. Cullen cleared his throat. “I’ve got a story.”

“Do you?” Sera grinned, crossing her legs and leaning forward. “Spit it out, then.”

“I was a new recruit. I must have just been assigned my post, because I still did grunt work. We were trying to take this ravine, but it was raining. The entire area was essentially a giant muddy mess, and the river did nothing to help. Every time we tried to advance, one of us would end up slipping and landing on our faces. It was funny, but then the enemy charged. They started slipping, too, and that was when it became hilarious.” Cullen stopped, waiting for some kind of reaction.

Nothing.

“Some story that was!” Sera said, sticking out her tongue and blowing a raspberry. “Nevermind the stories, then. What about roasting things? You brought anything to cook over the open flame?”

That was when Cullen realized that they hadn’t eaten a proper meal since they’d left that morning. “I do.” He said, reaching into his bag. “I’ve got… beans, spaghetti, other beans….” Cullen struggled for a moment. “Oh! Tomato soup. And then… yeah, that’s just more beans.”

Iron Bull, who had been silent for almost the entire night, started laughing. “Who packed this food? This isn’t enough to last us the rest of the journey.” He said before reaching for one of the cans and turning it over in his hand. “Here, Sera. I’ll show you how to trap a nug.”

“Sick!” She said, scrambling to her feet and following Bull off into the woods.

And then Cullen found himself alone. With Dorian. Again.

At least he had some beans and spaghetti, as well. 

Taking advantage of the silence, Cullen pulled out a pot, filling it with two of the cans of beans and pulling out a wire frame. He struggled with it for a moment, but eventually, it snapped into its proper shape, and he carefully set it over the fire. The pot went on top, and he sat back and admired his handiwork.

“Maybe they should change your title to Camper Cullen.” Dorian said, looking at the pot.

“How long have you been sitting on that joke?”

“Ever since I found out that we’d be spending the night sleeping in the woods like a group of apostates.”

Cullen laughed. “Well, it was an excellent delivery.”

“I pride myself on my way with words.” Dorian retorted, patting the ground beside him. “Join me, Commander. Let us watch as our feast cooks itself.” 

He did as much, sitting beside Dorian and looking at the fire. The silence might have been uncomfortable, except it wasn’t even entirely quiet. It was somewhere between silent and quiet. Peaceful, that might’ve been the word. Leaves rustled and unknown insects chirped in the darkness, the crackling fire adding to a soothing symphony of nature’s acoustics.

“I’ve decided, Cullen, that I’m still rather upset I never got my kiss from you.”

“Yeah?”

“Yes, and now, since there’s no one here to watch the Commander press his lips scandalously to the cheek of a Tevinter mage, I think it’s as good a time as ever to do as much.”

Maybe it was the sleep deprivation, But he couldn’t quite bring himself to argue with such logic. Instead, he turned so that he was facing Dorian. Carefully, Cullen raised his hand to cradle Dorian’s cheek, and he leaned in. His lips had barely brushed Dorian’s cheek when a loud “YES!” Roared through the woods.

A flock of birds Cullen hadn’t known were in the trees departed, and he came to his feet, drawing his sword.

“Seems we weren’t alone after all.” He said, not quite sure whether he was more upset about his safety, or his intimacy, being interrupted. Then, Cullen was hit with realization like a freight train. “We forgot the President.”

“Wait-”

“We forgot the President. Dorian, how do you forget an entire person?”

Dorian didn’t have an opportunity to answer, as that was the moment that Sera and Bull came bounding from the depths of the woods, both of them holding a dead nug in their hands. “Come tomorrow morning, we are eating like kings.” Bull announced, dropping the nug by the campfire. Sera followed suit.

“We forgot the President.”

Twin looks of realization came to Sera and Bull’s faces. 

Then, silence. There was no pointing fingers-- each and every one of them had been responsible for the oversight. There was no way that they could close the rift without her, and going back would triple the length of their trip.

“Maybe she came after us.” Cullen said, stirring the beans on the fire. Hoping against hope.

“Well ain’t that a crock a’ shit.” Sera snapped, “We travel all the way down that mountain, into these piss-ant woods, and none of ya’ think to say, maybe there’s someone we’re forgettin? Now we’re this close to a demon hole, and she won’t be here to close it!”

“She- she might be on her way.” Cullen repeated. “She wouldn’t leave us to die, not when the world is watching.”

Suddenly, Cullen felt very, very small. It was an eleven hour journey back to the top of the mountain, six if they really hoofed it, and there was no way any of them could make it without causing their performance the next day to suffer dramatically. This hadn’t been part of the plan.

And then, the clopping of hooves, padding the leaves in the forest with crunches that echoed in the night. Cullen’s face lit up with hope, and he turned towards the sound.

Never in his life had he been so happy to see anyone. The President stopped her horse, sliding down the side and looking at the four of them. “In a bit of a rush, are we?” She asked, playing it cool but clearly out of breath.

“I am-- so sorry.” Cullen stammered, mentally reeling for a way to deal with the situation.

“Don’t be. I’m the one who overslept. Is that-- beans?” She asked, walking to the side of the fire. In the flickering light, Cullen could clearly recognize what she was wearing. Battlemage armor. Masterworked, most likely. It was equal parts beautiful and elegant. She’d come ready for a fight. 

“Yes.”

The President nodded and took a seat by the fire. “How long until they’re ready?”

“I just started them, so… a few minutes?”

“You really did that.” Sera said, looking at the President with mild amusement. “You really came all the way down that mountain an’ through these woods jus’ so you could kill some demons?”

“No, I came to seal the rift. I don’t fight.”

“In that type of armor,” Bull said, “It certainly seems as if you are looking for one. That’s heavy for a mage.”

She looked at him pointedly. “I’m preparing for the worst.”

“What?” Dorian asked, “That you might get hit by some of my stray magic while we do all the fighting?”

Cullen, realizing exactly what was happening, cleared his throat pointedly. “Beans are ready.”

He doled them out into mugs, and while they were bland, having any food in his system felt nice. Plus, since everyone was eating, there was a lot less talking going on. Cullen could tell that most of his team was still at odds with the Professor. Granted, she’d threatened to expel them for doing the right thing, but the right thing had also involved trespassing on restricted parts of the school. Could they not see that their evil, while necessary, was still evil? Cullen wiped his mouth, setting down his empty mug and glancing over his shoulder, where the pulse of the rift could still be made out.

“We should turn in for the night.” He said, rising and walking towards his tent.

Well, his and Dorian’s. Sera and Bull were sharing the other one. The President was on her own, and as everyone but Cullen turned in for the night, he could see her putting two and two together. “Were am I sleeping?”

“There is another tent on our horses, they’re tied up a few meters that way. You can pitch it if you like, or you can sleep on the ground.” The President looked as if she hadn’t been asked to do anything for herself in a very long time. “It comes with an instruction manual, m’am. You’re not entirely alone.”

“Very well.” She said, turning away and walking towards the sounds of distant neighs and whinnies. As her crunches grew softer, Cullen finally shrugged off his jacket. Then, he crawled into the tent, lying down beside Dorian and sighing. 

Dorian didn’t move. Had he really fallen asleep so fast? 

Maybe so. Cullen closed his eyes, exhaling deeply. Breathing out the day. Sure, they’d made a pretty considerable mistake, but it also could have been worse. Everyone had eaten, had shelter, and had arrived uninjured. For that, Cullen felt proud. However, being in the elements-- it had been a while since he had camped like this. Compared to his conditions then, Templar camping was luxurious. He’d rarely had to pitch his own tent, and rations were always generous on the front lines. This was… this was rough. 

Rugged.

A distant twinge, a familiar ache, began to creep up on Cullen as he lie sleepless, staring at the ceiling of his tent. It grew from a mere soreness to full on nausea, his entire stomach twisted into tight knots. Then the cold sweats set in, and the tent felt entirely too small. Clumsily, he fumbled out of the tent and into the area where they’d lit the fire. Some of its embers still glowed. Stumbling away from the fire, Cullen braced himself against a tree, facing into the woods, away from the campsite.

He heaved, and the entire earth seemed to tilt with him. Another heave, his body rejecting the food, but instead of throwing up, he fell down, his body too weak to support itself. The feeling of his leg scraping against the trunk of the tree was like torture, and Cullen had to bite his lip to stop himself from crying out. He stay still, curled up in a fetal position, retching silently and feeling hot tears roll down his cold skin as frustration grew to humiliation. This was the brave Commander Cullen. The one who, at the slightest sign of success, relapsed into an anxious, withdrawal-ridden mess. 

Cullen had never liked the feeling of crying very much, but it seemed he couldn’t stop. The tears kept coming as his mind shifted from present success to past failure. All the times on the field that he saw comrades skewered, or hit dead between the eyes, or smashed-- he retched again. Each death had been a reminder, a tally on an invisible board, that Cullen could never be the soldier everyone believed he was. He was a failure. Not a war hero. He had left the Templars--

A sound. Weakly, Cullen came to his knees. He was so deep in unreality, however, that he couldn’t identify where it came from. He fell back against the tree, wincing as his back hit hard wood. Why was nature so unforgiving? Why couldn’t he be more like a tree, how it reached out and up and away from where it came, growing to protect and feed? He wasn’t a tree. He couldn’t say what he was. One of Sera and Bull’s nugs, maybe. Caught in a trap and left to burn for it. This was what the feeling was, he realized as he felt the tears subside. He was burning. The heat of battle had grown too strong, and now, he was burning away.

Realizing that he wouldn’t be sleeping soon, Cullen crawled weakly to the fire. He stoked it, hands fumbling and slipping as a combined result of disorientation, sweat, and exhaustion. He got a small flame going and just collapsed, lying down and watching the fire burn sideways. For a few minutes, he allowed that to soothe him. The crackling of the fire combined with the warmth brought a strange sense of peace to Cullen, and while he still felt sick to his stomach and like his head was on fire, he felt slightly more at peace with the suffering.

“Cullen?” Dorian. Cullen opened his mouth to say something, but an incoherent groan was all that escaped his lips. “Cullen, what the hell are you doing, lighting that fire at this unholy hour?” 

A weak shrug. Then, an unstoppable lurch as his stomach twisted again. “Mmhey.”

“Cullen are- are you alright?”

Cullen meant to smile, but instead broke into a coughing fit, and as his entire upper body was seized by it, he pulled himself up to a sitting position. “I’m---mm fine.”

“Don’t insult my intelligence. You’re drenched in sweat, Cullen.”

Trying to play stupid, Cullen a limp hand to his own cheek, wiping off some sweat and looking at it. “Huh.”

“What’s going on?”

“Mm just…. Tired.”

“Cullen.”

There was no way in hell that Cullen would tell Dorian what was really going on. About how his showers always had to be cold, because it kept him from suffering a sensory overload and breaking into another fit of withdrawals. He couldn’t tell Dorian how, after every meeting in the War Room, he would run out onto the bridge, entire body leaning over the side as he heaved and retched. It was a problem bigger than just the Lyrium, than being a veteran of a war. But he couldn’t say that. He couldn’t tell Dorian, because he could never let Dorian think anything less of him. “Just… bad beans.” He said, rubbing his eyes.

“Cullen.” Dorian repeated tone firmer. “Tell me what’s wrong now, or I will wake this entire encampment.”

No way in all the Maker’s world could Cullen allow that. “I’m-- sick.”

“Do you know what with?”

“Don’t dote over me.” Cullen muttered, rising to his feet. He swayed as he stood, stumbling slightly to his back and front. Never entirely still. Never entirely okay.

“I wouldn’t dote if you didn’t look as if you were about to collapse into yourself.”

“I’m fine.”

“You’re sick.”

Sicker than Dorian knew. “I just need to sleep it off.”

“Well, you can’t do that out by the fire. Well, you could, but Maker only knows what you’d wake up covered with. Come inside and go to bed.” 

Realizing that there was no point arguing, Cullen brushed past dorian and crawled into the tent, taking off his shirt and feeling no surprise when it only made him colder. At least he wouldn’t ruin the shirt any more than he already had. Dorian came into the tent next, crawling into his sleeping bag and turning on his side to look at Cullen.

“The first step to falling asleep is actually closing your eyes.”

So Cullen did as such.

Eventually, between chirps of unknown fauna and the gentle sighs of Dorian’s breath, Cullen fell asleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this trend of cullen forgetting people is actually me just forgetting to put people in a scene and being far too lazy to go back and fix it
> 
> its canon now. whatever


	19. Chapter 19

Cullen awoke feeling marginally better. He could still taste the bile from the previous night’s affair, but he wasn’t sweating anymore, and the feeling of vertigo had subsided significantly. He would be able to fight. Crawling out of his tent, he found that Bull was also awake, silently instructing Sera on how to cook hunted nug. He looked up from the dead thing, which was turning on a spindle, and at Cullen. 

“You’ve looked better.” Bull said, “But camping will have that effect on a person, huh? We’re having rotisserie nug for breakfast today. Prepared by the finest chefs in all of Ferelden.” 

Sera grinned.

At least they were happy. Cullen could see another tent had been pitched in the night, so he had no doubt that the President was still asleep. They were in no rush to fight. “I’ll go check on the horses.” He said, reaching into his bag and pulling out the armored top that Leliana had made for him so long ago. It was bulky, but it felt safe. Safe was what Cullen needed at the moment. He crossed the distance to the horses, who seemed as if they had just woken up. 

“Hey guys.” Cullen said, voice low. He reached out, petting one, right between its eyes and down the front of its head. The horse pressed into his palm, and he smiled a bit. Cautiously, Cullen leaned forward and pressed a kiss to its forehead, stroking its face and down the side of its neck. A strange sense of comfort came to him in that moment, how the horse silently accepted and returned his kindness. He hugged the horse, wrapping his arms around its neck and pressing his face into its mane. He felt safe, then. If he could be trusted by a tired, hungry, tied-up horse, then maybe things weren’t that bad. Not for him. He pulled away, giving a few more kind pats to the horse’s neck before reaching into one of its saddlebags, which lie on the ground with the rest of the horses’ tacks, and began doling out food to the team’s mounts. In the silence, he found peace. 

Cullen had never been much of an animal person. He’d had a couple pets growing up, but he’d never quite clicked with them. Despite this-- despite everything-- he felt forgiveness from the animals. He wasn’t sure what for, but some great thing within him shifted in that moment, and he accepted the change. With a sigh, he turned back and returned to the encampment.

Everyone was awake and getting geared up. A plate sat by the dying fire with a mixture of nug meat, beans, and what Cullen hoped was tomato soup. “This for me?” He asked, picking up the plate and examining it closely.

Bull nodded, and Cullen scarfed down the entire thing. It wasn’t the best he’d ever eaten, but it was certainly better than lukewarm beans. He set down his plate and looked around at everyone. “Madame President,” He said, picking up his sword and its harness, strapping it to his side, “Are you ready?”

She nodded. 

Cullen took a good look around. Dorian was in some elegant robe, no doubt of Tevinter origin. His staff was strapped to his back, and he looked full of resolve. Bull’s mallet sat by his side, one hand idly sitting on the pommel of it as he adjusted the strap that wrapped around his chest. Sera was loading her quiver, shoving as many arrows she could into it before looping it over her shoulder and picking up the bow.

“This shouldn’t be too difficult.” Cullen said as everyone gathered around the remains of the fire. “We’ve got some experience with this now, so hopefully we can escape with minimal injury. Bull, you and I will take the front lines. I want Dorian and Sera to stay in the back and run support. I don’t want any unnecessary casualties, or any casualties at all. Madame President, I do not want you engaged in combat at all. I will call on you if we need you. Otherwise, sit back and wait for your chance to close the rift. Is everyone awake and ready?”

“Ser!”

Cullen smiled. “Then let’s send those demons back to where they came.”

Together, they crossed the distance between their camp and the clearing, taking up their positions and watching as the rift sent out its worst: three shades and two terror demons. Cullen charged, giving the Shades no time to move, stabbing one right through the center and gripping his sword with both hands, pulling it up, up, up and straight through its head. The thing hissed and sputtered, and Cullen kicked it away, coming down on it one more time with a horizontal swipe, and then it was gone. He turned to see that Bull had already made quick work of the other shade, and was presently wrestling a terror demon off of Sera. Cullen looked for the other, just in time to see it spring out of the ground below Dorian, pouncing him. 

In a split second decision, he ran for Dorian, coming from the Demon’s side and barreling into the demon, knocking it off of him. This time, Cullenmoved away from the thing, putting some space between himself and it before brandishing his sword. “Dorian!”

Dorian fade-stepped right through it, stopping beside Cullen and putting a barrier up around them. “I’m here.”

And so he was, and Cullen swung at the Demon’s arms. It screeched and hissed, but together, the two of them conquered it. Then it was on to the one that Bull and Sera still struggled with. Cullen managed to pin it down long enough for Bull to swing his mallet down on its head, crushing it back into the Fade. 

“On your feet!” Cullen shouted, and everyone complied. They turned to the rift.

Out staggered a greater terror and some hulking, fiery thing. This was new. “Dorian, what-- what in Andraste’s name is that?”

“Rage demon.” Dorian said breathlessly. “Kill it fast.”

“Can do.” Sera said, getting down on one knee, pulling her drawstring back fully, pausing for a moment before releasing. Cullen could feel the force of the arrow as it whizzed past them and hit the thing right in the head, and it screamed, unlike anything Cullen had ever heard. His ears felt like they were going to implode, and he charged it alongside Bull, who hit the thing in the head with an upward swing, cool metal colliding with flaming hot flesh. 

“Hold off the terror, Sera!” Cullen yelled as he slashed at the rage demon, desperately waiting for it to hiss just like the others did, to collapse into the Fade, but it didn’t. It just kept taking hits, swiping at Bull and Cullen.

And then, Cullen was on his back, and so was Bull. The terror. Shit. Shielding his face, Cullen turned to look at Sera, who was lying on the ground. Motionless.

No.  **_No._ **

“No!” He yelled, picking up his sword, grasping the demon by its thorny shoulder and plunging it directly through its oaky flesh. It screamed, and Cullen pushed deeper, waiting until his handguard hit its chest, then twisted. Then the demon was gone. Cullen came to his feet. “Bull, Dorian, take care of the other demon!” And he ran for Sera, sheathing his sword, stopping at her side and kneeling. 

“Sera--”

“What the piss are you doin?” She asked, voice weak but angry.

“I’m- are you okay?”

“No, but you’re just about ta’ turn your back to that hulkin’ lava thing just cause I got a bit roughed up? You’re a worse commander than I thought.” She muttered. 

“You’re hurt.”

“And?” She frowned, turning onto her side with great difficulty and coming to a kneel. “Get out of my way.”

Cullen complied and got to his feet, drawing his sword. 

Sera kneeled, once more drawing her bow fully and waiting. Waiting. Waiting. Then she released, and the arrow hit the rage demon in the head. Right between the eyes. And it was gone.

“Madame President, close that rift! Bull, Dorian! Get over here!”

Doing as instructed, the other two came to Cullen and Sera, who had collapsed after releasing the bow, breathing shallowly. “I-” Cullen stammered, kneeling and putting Sera’s head on his lap. “Fuck. Please, is there something--” Dorian and Bull looked helplessly at Sera, who was visibly growing weaker with every moment. “President!” He shouted, “Please, help us!”

She ran over to where they were gathered, looking at Sera with deep remorse in her face. “I- there’s not much I can do.” She said. “Did none of you pack potions?”

Cullen had thought they wouldn’t need any. The Commander Cullen had fucked up again. He clenched his jaw, familiar tightness growing in his chest. 

This would not be the day that Cullen lost his friend.

“I’m taking her back now.” He said, picking Sera up bridal-style and running as fast as he could, dodging branches and jumping over exposed roots, flying through the camp and putting her on the horse. “Try to sit up, Sera.” He said, not bothering to tack the horse, getting on and pulling her arms around him. “Please, hang on. We’ll be there soon.” 

Despite knowing how dangerous and impractical it was, Cullen drew his sword and spurred on the horse. It took off running, and in true fantasy prince style, he wildly hacked away at branches, doing his best to carve a path, fueled by his own fear and the gentle grasp of Sera around his waist. 

He had to protect her. 

He couldn’t lose her. 

He couldn’t lose anyone. 

Cullen refused to be known as the hero who couldn’t save his friend.

He spurred on the horse, despite its heavy breathing and clear exhaustion. Hot tears streamed down his face, and his arm soon grew tired from constantly tugging on Sera, holding on to her, but he was fueled by something greater than courage or heroism, he was running entirely on fear.

 

By the time he arrived at Skyhold, the horse was foaming at the mouth and  collapsed as soon as Cullen had dismounted and pulled Sera off. A small crowd of students gathered, and Cullen said, “Someone get it food and water! It’s been galloping for four six on nothing!” Before running across the courtyard, into the castle. He didn’t know what to do, so he just kept going, carrying her into the War Room and tearing the map off the table, setting her down gently on the slab.

“Andraste preserve me.” He muttered. 

Sera looked like hell. If the battle hadn’t taken everything out of her, the ride had. Her fingers barely twitched, every exposed bit of skin covered in gashes and cuts. One eye was swollen shut, and her hair was singed off on the left side of her face. The entire bottom of her face was covered in a mixture of dirt and blood.

And then the answer was clear. He might have told her not to move, but it was clear that she could barely breathe. “Sera… stay alive.” He said. “Please, for me.” 

He brushed a stray hair from her face and turned, sprinting out of the castle, down the hall, and through a crowd that had formed in the courtyard. Then it was up the ramparts, his legs stinging from exertion, but his mind telling him to keep going. Then the bathroom. The Lyrium. Taking the entire box, he turned out of his dorm, leaving every door open in his wake, and shoved his way through the considerable crowd in the courtyard, then the hall, and into the War Room.

“Please, Sera--” He said. When he poured out the Lyrium this time, the withdrawals weren’t the reason for the shaking. He poured out a bit-- just enough. He turned Sera’s head to the sigh. “Please. Just… just one deep breath, Sera. Just breathe.”

And she did. Once she’d inhaled as much as she could, she broke out in a fit of coughs. Her hands clenched into fists and she retched. She turned over and immediately threw up over the side of the table. “What was that?”

“Lyrium.” Cullen said, putting the box on the table. “You’re okay.”

“I feel--- I don’t like this. Why’d you do that?”

“You were dying. I had to help you. Now sit still and I’ll find someone to help.”

“No need to look.” A familiar, smooth voice said from the door. “You’ve gotten yourself in quite a bit of trouble, dear.”

Vivienne. “Professor--” Cullen stammered, “You really--”

“No, no need to apologize, darling.” She said, stopping at the side of the table and looking at Sera. “I’m here to help.”

“No way in hell I’m accepting help from this pompous somebody, no freakin’ way. I’d much rather die, thank you very much.”

“Sera-”

“Sera?” The Professor asked, folding her arms calmly. “Why do you not want my help?”

“Because--” She spat out some blood, which Vivienne deftly dodged. “I don’t wanna owe shit to someone with such a big head. No, not at all.”

“Why would you ever feel as if you were indebted to me, love?”

“That’s how it works.” Sera snapped, “You do somethin’ nice for a nobody. Then another somethin’ nice for a nobody. Soon, a whole bunch of nobodys all owe you a whole lot. And you control them with it. I won’t be your nobody, ma’am.” She spat. “Goodbye.”

Vivienne shook her head. “I will not leave until I know that my student is safe.” She drew a vial from her pocket and handed it to Cullen. “She’s got fight in her, Cullen. I have respect for that. If you administer it to her, she will owe nothing to me. Now, how do you feel about that?” The mage asked, turning to Sera.

She frowned, but snatched the vial from Cullen’s hand. “Good for nothin’ Orlesian freakin’--” Her words were muffled as she drank the whole thing in one gulp, falling back on the table and sighing. 

“Thank you, Vivienne.” Cullen said, “For your help. Though now I need to ask you to go, so that I can take care of Sera’s wounds--”

“What wounds?”

Vivienne’s words were true. Cullen watched as slowly, cuts and scrapes all across Sera’s body began to close. While she still looked exhausted, it could tell that at least the physical pain had subsided. “Oh my…” He muttered, glancing at Vivienne.

Sera crossed her arms. “Get out.”

“Dear--”

“Vivienne, please. Thank you for your help. We need to be alone.”

She paused, nodded, and turned, walking out of the room with sweeping steps.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tag yrself im sera fighting the system even when shes literally dying


	20. Chapter 20

Dorian pulled Cullen into possibly the tightest hug of all time. 

Cullen, of course, returned the gesture. 

They had met in the courtyard, where the rest of the team had arrived after a couple hours. In that time, Cullen had been tending to a very difficult Sera. She was shaken from the fight, but was staying strong. At least, she was acting strong. Cullen couldn’t tell the difference. They’d talked for a bit, and despite her rough exterior, he’d managed to get through to her.

He was glad she was alive, and so was she. 

Commander Cullen had saved his friend.

So when the rest of the time had arrived, Cullen had run to the courtyard, trailed by Sera, and into Dorian’s arms. Of course he had. What else could he do? He had nearly lost someone that day. He’d seen Sera so close to death that he felt he was on the battlefield again, and he had been strong. Truly strong. Stronger than Lyrium. He had his strong human nature, and finally, he understood what Leliana meant.

Being strong hadn’t meant being able to fight. It hadn’t meant being able to lift Sera onto the horse. Being strong had meant being able to make a hard decision, to use what had caused him so much pain to give someone life, when the time called for it. It meant accepting a favor from someone he knew would call on him for help later. Being strong had meant having constitution, talking to Sera, seeing her through her healing despite how painful it had been for both of them. As he hugged Dorian, he couldn’t help but smile, because when he hugged Dorian, he felt that same sense of strength.

Then they pulled away, and Dorian punched him square in the chest. “Don’t you dare run off like that again. We spent the whole journey back here trying to decide whether we should prepare for a celebration of victory or a funeral.”

Cullen just smile. He grinned. He looked at Doiran and he grinned, because he knew that  **_Dorian_ ** knew how much that concern meant. And it was concern, not angry or fury. It was a concern, rooted in deep affection. Cullen loved Dorian, and he knew that. 

The love had snuck up on him, growing in the long nights spent in the library, feeding off of long conversations and days spent out and about, studying tirelessly, looking for justice. There were a lot of questions that remained, and Cullen knew this. However, what else he knew without a speck of questions was that Dorian was, and always would be, the most important thing in his heart. Everything he had done at Skyhold, had been with Dorian. Dorian, who shared such passion and drive with the world that Cullen couldn’t help but be inspired by him. 

Seeing Dorian after the day’s affairs-- a massive weight lifted from Cullen’s shoulders. Dorian was alive, and so was he. Their friends were alive, too. Everyone was alive, and Cullen was happy, and he was _ in love _ .

So he kissed Dorian. 

Square on the lips, in full view of the rest of the school, he kissed Dorian. 

Maybe it was a bad decision, he couldn’t be sure. All he knew was that he felt alive, and he felt strong, and now, he felt Dorian in his arms, grounding him and validating him.

Maybe that was all he needed. He pulled away from the kiss and stammered, “I, uh-- I thought I should give that to you. After the-- after we were, uh. Interrupted. You know, last night.”

Dorian laughed. “You missed my cheek, you blonde idiot.”

“Should I try again?”

“Maybe later.”

They shared a smile. 

Together, the lot of them went back to the War Room, where Cassandra, Leliana, and Josephine waited for them. The map had been picked up, put back on the table. A new thumbtack stuck where they had taken down the rift. Cullen looked around at his team, and he smiled.

The road ahead wouldn’t be easy, but it would be worth it. 

“Where do we go from here, boss?” Bull asked.

“I say we seal some rifts.” Cullen replied, looking down at the map, at the numerous markers of other rifts that they’d missed. “But first, rest up. We’ve got class in the morning.”

They left, and Cullen was alone in the room.

For the first time, he wasn’t lonely.

He picked a hunting knife from the harness that held his sword, raising it high over his head and plunging it into the map, right where a rift was marked, just east of the school, down the same path that they had taken the previous day. 

The hunt was on.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> keep goin


	21. EPILOGUE

“Welcome back, Commander.” Dorian said, standing up from his bed, setting down his book and approaching Cullen. “I heard about your heroics earlier today with Sera. Is it true that you used Lyrium to keep her alive?”

“Yeah.” Cullen replied, taking off his sword and harness, setting them down by the door. “She wasn’t very happy with it, though.”

“It was very inventive of you.” 

A shrug. “Or desperate.” He tried to walk past dorian to the bathroom, but was stopped by Dorian’s hand on his shoulder.

“I really hope you didn’t think you’d get away from me that easily, Cullen.”

“Dorian, I need to take a shower--”

“And you can. Later” The mage said, walking up to Cullen and folding his hands behind his back, looking up at him. “For now, I say you remind me of how grateful you are for my saintly patience and godlike looks.”

Cullen laughed, but didn’t move. “Can it wait?”

“Just a kiss to tide me over, then? Or can our big, strong Commander not handle such scandalous--”

Needless to say, their big, strong Commander COULD handle such scandalous shows of affection. He pulled away, an arm around Dorian’s waist. “I--”

“Mmmm, don’t talk, amatus. You’ll ruin the moment.”

“Amatu-” Cullen was interrupted by another kiss. “People will talk, Dorian.”

“Good.”

“Dorian, I need to take a shower.” 

“Again, with the showers.” Dorian groaned, giving Cullen another peck on the lips. “Fine. But I hope you know that I am not finished here. With you, I mean.”

Cullen laughed and pulled away from the embrace, walking towards the bathroom and opening the door. He ran the shower, and as he undressed and stepped in, he couldn’t help but relax and smile.

He didn’t notice that the water was warm until he got out.

 

The next morning, Skyhold was aflurry with gossip and students running about like chickens with their heads cut off. More than once, a number of students ran right into Cullen, apologized swiftly, and kept going. When he finally made it to the dining hall, he saw the reason for the chaos. There, at the far end of the Dining Hall, for all to see, sat the President, the Vice President, and two complete strangers-- a dwarf, and a man in unmistakable Grey Warden armor. Cullen made his way down the dining hall, which was rife with murmurs and hushed voices, and stopped at the table. 

“Madame President.”

“Cullen,” She smiled, “I’d like to introduce you to some new conscripts to our cause. This is Varric, and this is Warden Blackwall. They’ll be staying on campus to help us out with sealing the remaining rifts.”

Cullen bowed his head in greeting. “Hello.” He said. “I wish I’d heard about your arrival sooner, I would have loved to make you more welcome on your first day here.”

“No worries, kid.” Varric said, waving a dismissive hand. “If the cooking’s this good every day, I’m sure I’ll find a way to survive.”

“Oh, and Cullen?” The President said. “After you eat, gather up your friends and bring them to the War Room. It’s time we discuss something.”

Although he didn’t like the sound of the suggestion, Cullen nodded, turning away from the elevated table and back to the students’ dining area, where he sat and was joined shortly by the rest of his friends. 

“President says we have to discuss something.” Cullen said, taking a sip of water. 

“That must be why she brought those two strangers to the school. Perhaps they know something--” 

Josephine was interrupted by Cullen. “No. They’re working with us now. The President said she brought them on to help us with whatever’s next.”

“Whatever’s next?” Sera asked, “You mean to tell me that there’s more than just rifts out there? Bollocks.”

“I don’t know what she meant.” Cullen replied, “But it sounded ominous. And a Grey Warden?” He shook his head. “I don’t know, this seems troubling.”

“We will succeed.” Leliana said, again eating a bowl of dry cereal. “We always do.”

“Leliana’s right.” Bull interjected, “Nobody in this school is better at pummeling demons than we are.”

Cullen smiled. “Fine. We’ve got a lot of work to do then.”

 

When they finished eating, they headed together to the War Room, where, true to her word, the President stood with Blackwall and Varric.

“There is no easy way to put this,” The President said as they gathered around the table, “But there’s… a dragon.”

“What?”

“There’s actually… there’s actually, multiple dragons.” She continued.

“Wait--”

“And we need you to kill them.”

Cullen looked around at everyone, who seemed just about as shocked as he was. “I’m going to have to ask you to slow down a bit. Why do we need to kill them?”

Varric spoke up this time. “Because, one of them might be an archdemon.”

“An- an archdemon?” Dorian asked. “You’re really going to drop that on us, like nothing?”

“I agree.” Sera said, frowning. “Can’t just drop an archdemon on us like that. It’s not happy hour at the pub, it’s not just, you know ‘Oh, come on down everyone! It’s dragon time! Hurry up and you’ll only lose half your limbs’! That’s not how it works!”

“Calm down.” The President said, pulling the hunting knife from where Cullen had put it the previous night. “We brought these two along for a reason. A long time ago, they helped me kill a dragon themselves. They know how to handle this. We start--” She said, bringing down the knife in the southwest forests of the map, “Here.”

  
And so they did.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> my biggest regret in writing this was never justifying how all of society advanced but no one ever invented guns


End file.
